


It Only Takes A Touch.

by Dolavine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fingering, Frotting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Schmoop, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam discovers he has a gift; he can bring back the dead. It’s not an easy thing to have but along the way he finds that it can be quite helpful and quite the hindrance. He has to make some difficult decisions about his gift, because it’s not a simple thing when there is this rule that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. It’s not an easy thing to keep hidden either and when Dean becomes part of the whole mess, it becomes a wedge between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** It Only Takes A Touch.  
 **Author:** Dolavine  
 **Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
 **Genre:** hurt!comfort  
 **Rating:** Nc-17  
 **Word count:** 29,684  
 **Warnings:** major character deaths, brief het w/ Dean/ofc.  
 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Kripke owns it all, I am but a slave to his characters.  
 **Summary:** Sam discovers he has a gift; he can bring back the dead. It’s not an easy thing to have but along the way he finds that it can be quite helpful and quite the hindrance. He has to make some difficult decisions about his gift, because it’s not a simple thing when there is this rule that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. It’s not an easy thing to keep hidden either and when Dean becomes part of the whole mess, it becomes a wedge between them.  
 **A/N:** Written for [](http://wincest-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**wincest_bigbang**](http://wincest-bigbang.livejournal.com/) Thank you to [](http://wincest-whore.livejournal.com/profile)[**wincest_whore**](http://wincest-whore.livejournal.com/) for giving me the opportunity to write this and for opening a Wincest only bigbang. Thank you to [](http://memoonster.livejournal.com/profile)[**memoonster**](http://memoonster.livejournal.com/) for the epic beta and to **[Unknown LJ tag]** for the early read through and great encouragement throughout. A big big big thank you to [](http://forhimxx.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://forhimxx.livejournal.com/)**forhimxx** for the beautiful Art. You were a pleasure to work with.  
 **PDF:**

 

Sam doesn’t always hate his gift, as a matter of fact his gift can saves people, well, kind of saves people. If it wasn’t for that stupid rule that every action has an equal and opposite reaction, he’d feel a whole lot better about being able to bring back the dead.

So let’s start at the beginning before jumping to the middle shall we.

 

 

 

 

“Cleaning up the bodies is Dean’s job Sammy; you just put away the weapons.” John says handing Sam the car keys along with his shot gun and large hunting knife before taking a second to affectionately mess up his straggly shaggy hair. “Go on now,” he pats his behind to send him on his way.

Sam tears his eyes away from the man lying lifeless on the ground as Dean lays a large black tarp over his body. “I want to help him, looks like a hard job for one person.”

John gives him a stern look. “Sam, you’re only twelve, you have plenty of time to help Dean, now go put those in the trunk,” he pats Sam’s shoulder as he pushes him in the direction of the car.

 

“Okay,” he’s not happy about it but Sam hurries back to the car and pops the trunk before carefully placing everything in its designated spot. He closes the lid and waits for them to return, when they do Dean’s hands are bloody and his face is smeared with crimson streaks.

“I need a towel,” Dean says holding out his blood smeared hands.

Sam opens the trunk and pulls out a much used stained towel and hands it to Dean who quickly wipes his face and hands clean. “Thanks,” he smiles appreciatively at Sam as he hands him back the towel. Sam grins shyly back before throwing the towel into the trunk and slamming the lid down.

When they get back to the motel John, as always, leave the boys at the motel while he goes to _take care of some business_.

When Dean comes out of the bathroom from cleaning up he flops down on the bed and turns on the TV. “So when’s dad coming back?” he never takes his eyes off of the TV screen.

Sam flops down next to him and puts his feet over Dean’s legs. “Who knows, today, tomorrow, possibly tonight, he didn’t leave any cash on the table before he left,” he snuggles in tight to Dean. “What’s it like?” he asks in a quiet hesitant tone.

“What is what like?” Dean asks turning to look down at Sam.

“Taking care of the dead things,” he looks up into Dean’s eyes.

“Ahh Sam, you don’t want to know about that do ya, let’s just watch some TV,” he tries his best to shift Sam’s interest.

Sam’s face drops to a frown. “Guess not, besides dad wouldn’t approve since I’m only the hardware stocker,” he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe you should hope you don’t ever have to handle the clean up Sam, because it’s not much fun. Now who wants pizza?” he’s trying to lighten the mood so he doesn’t have to think about how depressing his part of the job is.

“Dad didn’t leave any money.”

Dean pulls a twenty out of his pocket and waves it in the air. “I’ve got my own money,” he grins wide.

“Where did you get that?” Sam asks with interest.

“I have my ways, now do you want pizza or not,” he’s not going to tell Sam that it came off of the dead body while he was taking care of it because if John ever found out, he’d kill him for it.

Sam raises his hand. “Me, I want pizza,” he says with excitement, like he’s never had pizza before.

“Then I guess we better order it before dad gets back or we’ll have to share,” he pushes his shoulder in close to Sam coaxing a playful grin from him.

“Guess so because I am so hungry I could eat the entire pie,” he pushes Dean’s shoulder away playfully before he gets up to order the pizza.

“And I know that you could,” Dean laughs.

 

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Sam is told to hang in the background out of harms way where he won’t be seen as Dean and John take on the demons they’ve been hunting all day.

Hunkered down inside of the car, Sam peeks his head up just enough so that he can see them fighting. Dean’s spouting Latin phrases as John is throwing holy water at them. It looks like they don’t have a chance but suddenly black smoke pours out of both of the men at the same time and the human bodies fall to the ground like rag dolls. Sam gasps at the sight, he’s never seen the actual exorcism before, never been witness to anything other than the aftermath. Sure he’s been taught how to fight and shoot, how to take down various creatures or ghosts, even thrown the match on a few salt and burns but this is an actual demon exorcism he’s being witness to.

The bodies are crumpled lifelessly on the cement and Sam cautiously exits the car and walks up beside Dean who is crouched down next to one of the bodies. “This one is still alive,” he says to John.

Sam looks over at his father who is checking the other man. “This one is gone; demon must have used him up.”

John walks past Sam and squeezes his shoulder before kneeling down and checking the man Dean said was still alive. “Yeah he’s still breathing; help me get him in the car Dean.”

They drag the man to the car and lay him out in the back seat; John looks at Sam who is fascinated with the other body before shutting the car door. “I’m going to drop him off at the hospital and come right back, don’t let Sammy be too infatuated with the body Dean and don’t let anyone see it. We’ll take care of it when I get back,” he gets into the Impala and drives down the alleyway while Dean and Sam watch as he turns the corner out of sight.

“Come on, we better keep watch so no one comes down the alley,” he says to Sam.

Sam never takes his eyes off of the dead man. “What did the demon do to kill him? He was moving around fine before the smoke came out of him,” Sam looks over at Dean with wide eyes.

“Sometimes the demon’s possession is just too much for some people and they die, demons use up a lot of juice when they possess you.”

“Do you know they’re in there or are you like in a coma or something?” Sam sits on the edge of a box next to the dumpster where the body is laying.

“Dad says you’re trapped, like you know what’s happening but you can’t do anything to stop it, must be hell for them; maybe dying is the best thing that can happen. Who wants to live the rest of their life knowing a demon was inside of their body using it as a meat puppet.”

“I hope I never get possessed,” Sam looks back down at the lifeless body. “There are lots of ways to die when you’re a hunter but I don’t want mine to be by demon possession.”

“That’s why we do this Sammy, so that some day we can all be safe from demons,” he ruffles up Sam’s head of moppy locks.

The sound of a car screeches to a stop at the end of the alleyway and Dean pulls Sam behind the dumpster as he kicks a large box over the body to hide it.

The car waits a few seconds before taking off down the street. Dean peeks out from behind the dumpster to make sure no one got out and that the coast is clear. “We need to move this body out of view,” He looks around the alley for the perfect hiding spot. “Okay Sam, help me drag it over behind those bags of garbage,” he grabs the arms while he waits for Sam to grab the legs.

Sam looks cautiously at the body; he’s never touched anything dead before, not one dead thing, ever. He wiggles his fingers as he gets the courage to take it by the ankles and lift its stiff heavy legs up. He takes a deep breath as he prepares.

“Jesus Sammy, he’s freaking dead, it’s not like he’s gonna bite you or something, just grab his damned ankles and lets get this over with,” Dean coaxes Sam.

“Alright,” he says hesitantly before bending down and grabbing the ankles. He’s surprised they aren’t stiff but they are heavy, like two really heavy weights.

Dean starts to drag the body towards the garbage bags and Sam tries with all of his strength to help lift him off of the ground but his hands are slipping so he readjusts them sliding up under the pant legs just above the top of the sock, he feels the cool skin then suddenly something like a tiny shock of static electricity shoots through his fingers and they start to tingle for a split second.

Suddenly the body begins to struggle and the man yells for help. Dean jumps and quickly drops the man’s arms, he shouts to Sam who is in shock. “Let go Sammy,” the man’s kicking at Sam so he releases the legs. Both of them jump back away from the man who is scrambling to get off the ground. “Who are you?” he says frantically as he searches the alleyway for a way out like a trapped animal.

They just stare at him, Sam makes a strange noise in the back of his throat and Dean is absolutely speechless. The man sees that the alley isn’t blocked and starts to run down it as fast as he can. Sam and Dean just watch him running away, they don’t even move, completely stunned by the strange turn of events.

When he reaches the street and turns the corner they just turn to each other and stare with their mouths hanging open in disbelief.

Sam finally regains his power of speech after a few seconds. “How are we going to explain this to dad?” he asks with fear and wonderment.

“Guess he wasn’t dead after all,” Dean says confused at what just happened. He rubs the back of his neck before slumping back against the dumpster. “I just don’t get it, he was dead, no pulse and no breathing,” he shakes his head.

“Stunned, maybe he was just stunned,” Sam says with an enthusiastic epiphany, like he has just figured the whole thing out. “You know, like birds get stunned when they hit a window or something.”

Dean pats Sam’s back. “Must be it,” he smiles at him, consoling him. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that, right,” he messes up Sam’s hair again.

Sam just blushes but Dean can’t see it because it’s so poorly lit in the alley.

When John arrives they try to explain it to him but he’s stunned with disbelief since he checked his vitals himself and he was most definitely dead. “But he didn’t have a heart beat, wasn’t breathing at all,” John says confused.

“He got up and ran away,” Dean says with all honesty as they climb into the car.

“It was weird but true, he just kind of woke up while we were moving him and then ran away,” Sam says over the back seat as they drive away.

John shakes his head. “Sure he wasn’t possessed again?”

“Honest, no black smoke, nothing entered him at all, we would have seen it, right Sammy,” Dean looks at Sam earnestly.

“Yeah, nothing, just moving him and bam, awake and taking off,” Sam says with all honesty.

“Weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” John says before climbing back into the car. “Get in boys, we’re heading out.” They scramble into the back seat and head back to the motel.

 

 

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“Dean, you go to the funeral home and check out the body, Winston Charles is his name. I’ll stay here and search the house for any more ghost activity. They can’t be literally scaring these people to death, make sure to check for any signs of possession too.” John instructs Dean. “Oh and take Sammy with you, he needs the practice being stealthy when breaking in to do body searches.”

“Yes sir. Come on Sam,” Dean takes the car keys from John.

Sam climbs eagerly into the car. “So, body search huh,” he acts very uninterested about it, but inside he’s bursting with excitement.

“Just a routine break and enter Sammy and then we get to molest a corpse while we look for information,” Dean’s sick of the grunt work, “it’s never very exciting.”

“Cool,” Sam acts nonchalant about it but really he’s bursting apart inside to actually get to do some real investigative work, not just reading some old dusty books while Dean and John do all of the fun stuff.

“If I recall correctly you weren’t too jazzed about touching dead bodies last time you were faced with one,” he gives Sam a knowing smirk.

“Yeah well, that was when I was a kid, I’m fifteen now, dead things don’t bother me anymore,” he acts strong but the truth be told, the thought of touching dead things still squiks him out, a lot.

“Okay then,” Dean just smiles and cocks his head in that knowing way he always does when he’s contesting Sam’s statements.

The funeral home is dark and empty when Dean and Sam approach the window to the basement; Dean looks inside and sees the silver embalming slab, he checks the lock on the latch and sees he can easily open it with his pocket knife so he slips it between the framework and wiggles it back and forth until the lock opens. He looks at Sam with a big smile and waggles his eyebrows. “Success,” his toothy grin is full of pride.

Sam pushes at Dean’s shoulder. “Me first,” he says slipping through the small opening.

Dean shakes his head and rolls his eyes as he slides in behind him. His feet aren’t even on the floor and Sam is already at a desk in the corner of the room sifting through papers. He looks around and sees the chrome doors with numbers on them. “Great, multiple drawers,” he rolls his eyes.

Sam shuffles through a short stack of yellow file folders on the desk. “Didn’t dad say the man’s name was Winston Charles?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it.”

“Drawer five,” Sam says holding up a yellow folder with the man’s name on it.

Dean’s pulling the drawer open before Sam has a chance to hurry over and stand on the other side of it.

Dean cracks his knuckles for effect giving Sam a little smile and then pulls the sheet back. They are met with a very creepy sight; the man’s face is frozen in a horrific grimace as if he were literally scared to death. “Shit, gross,” Dean says making a disgusted face.

“Says in his file that he died of heart failure, doesn’t mention anything about his grotesque facial expression though,” Sam looks up at Dean and mimics the man’s expression.

Dean starts to laugh. “Knock it off Sammy, be serious,” he mimics the facial expression too.

“Oh yeah, real mature Dean,” Sam’s eyes are crossed and he’s sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth.

“Okay, totally serious now Sammy,” he composes himself before he starts to examine the man’s body.

Sam just looks at it, watches what Dean does, how he runs his fingers along the man’s arm looking for something. How he opens the mouth and looks inside for sulfuric remains from a demon exit.

When Sam looks at the body his fingers start to twitch as he thinks about touching it. He’s nervous so he swallows hard as he places his hands over the shoulder and lets them linger above but not touching it, not yet anyway.

“Come on Sammy, this isn’t my favorite job either but I wanna get out of here, just feel all over for welts and look for lacerations,” he instructs as he continues his thorough examination.

Sam’s mouth goes dry as he lets his hands come down on the body to touch its bare skin. Suddenly he gets the feeling of static electricity prickling his fingertips and before he can move away the body sits straight up from the slab and starts screaming. He jumps back in sheer horror; it takes all of his breath like he’s just been punched in the gut.

Dean lets out a loud scream of surprise before he goes into complete hunter mode; he grabs a scalpel from the exam table next to them and plunges it into the reanimated corpse’s forehead, it stops moving instantly and it falls back onto the table, dead again. “What the fuck just happened?” he’s panting and shaking as he slams the drawer shut and turns the latch on it. He looks over at Sam with wide eyes.

Sam’s stunned and frightened, he can’t speak, and his fingertips are still tingling with the feeling of electricity. He just stands there staring with wide eyes back at Dean. He can barely comprehend what just happened.

“Zombie,” is all Dean can say as he swallows hard.

Sam just blinks, he can’t respond as his brain is flashing with the thoughts of the last time he touched a corpse and how it reanimated after he touched it.

“Sammy, think it might have been a Zombie?” Dean asks again but gets no response.

Sam’s busy thinking about the static electricity feeling he got in his fingertips just before the other body woke up and how it happened again just now with this body.

Dean grabs Sam by the shoulders and shakes him. “Sammy, snap out of it,” he says as he shakes him again.

He blinks and looks Dean in the eyes, he wants to say something but his brain is preoccupied with the single idea that he thinks he can bring the dead back to life. It’s the only logical explanation for what has happened both times, the exact same experience resulting in a dead body seemingly coming back to life.

“Say something Sammy,” Dean’s worried, he’s afraid Sam’s been traumatized and how is he going to explain this to their father. _Sorry dad but a zombie traumatized Sam, I guess he’s just not cut out to be a hunter._ That conversation is going to go over very well.

Sam grunts quietly before actually regaining his power of speech. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says quietly. He briefly thinks about ending his sentence with _if being able to wake the dead means I’m okay?_ but he knows he can’t tell Dean or he’ll tell dad and then an entirely new can of worms will be opened up, or until he’s at least positive that he **can** wake the dead. “Zombie, yeah,” he answers before exhaling hard.

 

 

There isn’t a day that goes by that Sam’s not plagued with the idea that he can possibly reanimate the dead, it literally occupies most of his waking and sleeping thoughts.

He’s sitting at the table poring over several old books looking for ways to kill a Siren while Dean and John are out hunting it. He thinks about how John’s been all too happy to leave him behind again to do all of the book research since the **incident** a few months ago. _It isn’t like I freaked out or anything like that but to hear Dean tell it, I went virtually comatose for a few minutes, this equals being traumatized in the John Winchester’s guide to being a good hunter,_ he thinks.

A few hours pass and he’s getting bored with the whole medieval tales of Siren hunting, the sketches of half naked apparitions and grotesque women masquerading as beautiful temptresses. He’s losing interest quickly when he realizes he’s only read book two of the stack of twelve that Bobby lent them. He rubs his eyes and leans back in the chair exhaling hard as he stares up at the fading light on the ceiling from the big window behind him. He turns around and leans on the windowsill watching the colors fade out of the scenery.

He looks down on the sill and sees a few little dead flies that are lying motionless in the metal window frame and he blows on them making their tiny wings flutter. He bites his lower lip as he sits up and looks at the tip of his index finger and then back down at the dead flies, he has an idea to test his theory but what if it only works on humans, he could be fooling himself if the fly doesn’t come back to life. He slides his finger over the silver metal ridge as he debates on whether to test his theory or not.

The last few rays of sun are turning a dark cast on his skin as he stares at the tiny black insect’s lifeless bodies. He takes a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly through his nose as he gains the courage to touch one. He closes his eyes, bites his lower lip and straightens up big and tall before lifting his finger from the ledge. He slowly and methodically chooses the fly he wants to touch as he brings his finger down and touches one.

A tiny spark tickles his finger and instantly the fly’s wings start to flutter and it buzzes away in a frantic escape. Sam watches it fly around the room, he sees it land on a half eaten doughnut that Dean left on the nightstand before they left and he walks over slowly and leans in to watch it eat. It’s not even disturbed by his presence, it just keeps eating like it’s starved and it probably is since it hasn’t eaten in God knows how long.

After watching it eat for nearly five minutes it starts to stagger a bit like its stuffed full before managing to take off and take a spin around the room. It lands on the windowsill and meanders around there like it’s reminiscing about the old days when it was dead but now it’s alive again and Sam wonders if it’s actually wondering why the other flies aren’t happily enjoying a second chance at life. He takes pity on the poor lonely reanimated fly and touches another one that suddenly and gracelessly flutters back to life. It tries to fly but something must be wrong with its wings because it just sort of hops and flops like a sputtering plane engine. He examines it more closely and discovers it has a decomposed wing and suddenly his playing God with insect’s lives makes him feel sad. He grabs the newspaper and puts it out of its obvious misery. The healthy fly takes off and disappears into the room, probably where Sam won’t be able to find it.

He doesn’t do any more research, he just sits and ponders the fact that his mere touch can bring something or someone that is dead back to life even if it is far beyond its expiration date. He wonders if he’s the king of Zombies and if what he brings back can be considered zombiefied, will they eat brains, was the man he brought back running amuck in the streets of Philadelphia trying to eat people’s brains? He really doesn’t want to think about that but if what he’s bringing back are Zombies, what is the purpose of having this special power.

He’s not sure if he should tell his brother or father about this, what will they think and will they categorize him as a thing that needs to be hunted simply because he can raise the dead? How will they feel about the one that got away? What if they want to go back and search for the man who got away and might possibly be a zombie? And he decides for now, that this is his little secret.

 

 

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Sam hasn’t been experimenting with his powers for quite a few months; the fear of bringing back brain eating zombies pretty much put the lid on that jar. It doesn’t stop him for thinking about it every waking moment though.

Dean squeezes Sam’s foot, hard. “Wake up sleepyhead, Dad’s on his way and then we are gonna roll,” he then slaps his ass for good measure.

Groaning Sam rolls out of bed. “We haven’t even been here a day. Think I have time for a shower,” he stumbles into the bathroom not bothering to close the door before he kicks off his pajama bottoms, he’s completely naked underneath. His tall lanky 16 year old body is sleepily slumped over as he relieves himself, the sound of liquid splashing into liquid echoes through the heavily tiled room.

Dean turns around to answer him and catches a glimpse of a very naked Sam relieving himself; he swallows hard before quickly diverting his eyes nervously. “Probably not,” he wants to turn back around but he can’t, he won’t, because being turned on by the sight of his naked brother is beyond wrong. “Just throw on some clothes and hit the shower in the next town. Come on Sammy, time’s a wasting,” he puts his backpack over his shoulder and goes outside to sit on one of the benches in front of the motel office.

There is a cigarette machine in front of the office; he searches his pockets for enough change to buy a pack. He slips the money into the machine and retrieves a pack of smokes. He stares at them for a while before tearing off the cellophane and taking one out. He doesn’t smoke, well it should be said that he never smokes unless something is really upsetting him and this growing thing about being attracted to his brother has his gut in a knot. He looks around cautiously before slipping it between his lips and lighting it up. He takes a long deep satisfying drag, the red ember glowing brightly before he brings the cigarette down to rest on his knee, the thick line of white smoke streams from between his lips as he exhales hard.

He waits for the feeling of relief that usually washes over him after the first inhale but it doesn’t come, he’s frustrated by Sam and there is no way he can see to get around it. He takes another long drag and exhales trying to force every thought of Sam out of his head with the long push of smoke but it doesn’t work. He hears a door shut and looks down to see Sam coming out of the room; he quickly butts the cigarette with his boot heel and pops a piece of spearmint gum into his mouth.

Sam sits next to him on the bench; he smells the cigarette mixed with mint and scrunches up his nose. “Dude, are you smoking again?”

“Lay off Sammy, I got stuff to work out, just don’t tell dad,” he gives Sam his best I’m your big brother look, don’t question me.

“Hey you don’t have to tell me about needing to work things out, I got things to ya know, we are a pretty fucked up family,” he nudges Dean’s shoulder with his playfully.

Dean smiles at the touch, he nudges back but when that feeling starts again, when his heart races like a school boy with a crush he pulls away. “Yeah, pretty fucked up,” he says as he sees the Impala pulling into the lot.

It’s a short ride to the next town, just two towns over from the last. Dean throws his backpack on the bed just inside the door; he scowls a little when Sam throws his bag on the bed alongside of his. It’s not like they haven’t shared the exact same bed since day one but lately it is getting harder and harder for Dean to sleep next to him, he finds himself staying awake and obsessing about the sounds of his breathing, how his body seems to find its way virtually on top of him and how he wants to stroke his cock to the sight of Sam’s hard belly muscles when he stretches that long body of his completely out and his t-shirt rides up exposing it.

“What?” Sam asks noticing the frown on Dean’s face.

“Nothing,” he doesn’t want to tell Sam to sleep in the other bed or he’ll definitely have questions and that is a can of worms he doesn’t want to open.

“That is your something face, what’s up?” Sam’s persistent if nothing else.

Dean swallows hard and tries to quickly think of an excuse but is interrupted by John. “Come on boys, we’ve got work to do.”

“Nothing Sam, come on we have to go,” he’s never been more thankful for an interruption in his life.

As they pull the car onto a back road there are bodies everywhere in all states of carnage. It looks like an epic battle was fought but they know it is something much darker that took these people apart.

John pulls the car over to the side of the road unable to continue as the road is littered with the bodies. They get out and the stench from the layers of corpses is more than their senses can take, Dean quickly vomits and Sam gags, they tie bandanas around their faces to cut the assault.

Sam moves cautiously through the maze of carnage, careful to not touch any of the bodies.

John assesses the situation. “If we are going to get anywhere we need to make a path,” he looks at the boys.

Dean grimaces beneath the bandana and furrows his brow, he knows what his father is asking and he doesn’t like it at all. “So what do you propose?” he knows the answer but hopes John will have some mercy and call for a mass salt and burn.

“Get them off of the road of course, looks like it’s clear up ahead. I’m going to go ahead and look around, when your done bring the car up.”

“Yes sir,” Dean says like a good little soldier.

Sam winces at the thought of moving or touching any of the bodies, it’s a good thing he bought himself a huge supply of heavy work gloves for just this sort of job. He opens the trunk and pulls them out. “Want a pair?” he asks Dean.

“What do you think?” he says sarcastically as he looks around at the bloody mass of bodies.

Sam throws Dean a pair, as he’s slipping the gloves on he takes a deep breath and chokes on its foul taste. “It’s never going to get any easier,” he looks through the mess then reaches down and picks up an arm to toss if off to the side.

They start moving the larger bodies, both taking an end as they move them off of the road, they’ve been working at it for about half an hour and making some headway but not enough.

They’re moving one of the bodies when Sam’s glove catches on a spike on the man’s boot and rips open, he doesn’t notice it and continues to work.

Working hard and fast they’re reaching the end of the mass, they’re moving a pretty tattered body when it starts to pull apart and Sam grapples to hold onto it, his finger slips out from the glove and touches it, he feels the spark ignite and suddenly the corpse is struggling against their grips.

Dean drops the body and jumps back, his eyes are wide and he’s paralyzed with fear. Sam knows what has happened, he’s trying hard to figure out how it happened, and he looks at his glove and sees his finger sticking out of the seam and instantly feels guilt.

“What the fuck,” Dean yells as he stares at the corpse writhing and crying for help.

“Dean its okay, its okay,” Sam tires to console him.

“What do you mean its okay, its fucking alive,” he starts to search for something to bludgeon it with. “We need to put this thing out of its misery or send it back to hell,” he spies a large rock and picks it up. “Hold it down Sam,” he says wielding it over the writhing corpse’s head.

Sam reaches out to hold its arms down, a cold sensation tingles through his finger like he just touched ice and it instantly stops moving, no sounds, no breathing, just stops everything and lies there still as a board. Sam jerks back, it’s like everything the spark ignites with one touch, a second touch undoes instantly. “Wait, Dean I think its dead,” he yells as he lets go of it.

“What?” Dean says a shocked look on his face, he lowers the rock to examine it, he kicks it hard and it doesn’t move or make a sound. “I’ll be damned,” he’s confused and looks back up at Sam who is standing there with a very stunned expression. “How the hell?” his hands release the rock and it hits with a thud breaking Sam out of his daze.

Sam pulls his gloves off and looks at his hands, he’s confused how could he have brought it back and then touched it again and it dies? He reaches over and touches it again cautiously, but nothing, no spark; no life just dead mangled flesh.

“Sam, don’t touch it,” Dean scolds him like he’s a five year old. “That’s just gross dude,” he leans down and stares at the body or what’s left of a body. “How the hell did that thing come back?” he’s questioning the reality of the situation. He looks over at Sam who has a very painful expression on his face.

“I might know,” he stands up and clears his throat. He figures it’s time to say something because he’s been struggling with this, wanting to tell Dean, needing to tell someone about what he can do.

“Well, Einstein?” he’s waiting for a good explanation.

Sam’s hesitant and just stares for a few seconds before letting it come out. “It was me,” his eyes shift from Dean’s with embarrassment.

“What do you mean, it was you?” Dean’s confused by Sam’s confession.

There isn’t anything left to do but admit everything. “I can bring back the dead.”

Dean starts to laugh and shake off Sam’s admission. “Sure you can,” he doesn’t believe him at all.

“It’s true Dean, I touch dead things and they come back to life,” Sam is adamant, he stares Dean in the eyes with a cold questioning stare.

“Since when?” he still doesn’t want to believe Sam but the way he’s acting makes his gut twist into a knot.

“The first time was that guy in Philadelphia, he was the first one, then the dead guy in the morgue, and he was the one that confirmed to me that it was my touch that brought dead things back. After that, I touched a fly that had been dead on the windowsill at a motel last year and it came back to life and flew around, that was the definite answer I needed,” he’s hanging his head like he’s ashamed of his skill.

“But, but, what, how,” Dean is speechless, he can’t believe what he’s hearing, his brother brings back the dead. “Are they, do you know if they are ya know?”

“Do you mean do I think they are zombies?” Sam asks unaffected.

“Yeah,” he’s not sure if he wants to hear the answer.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. I think I can just reanimate the dead,” Sam looks at his hands then back at Dean.

“How can you be so sure? I mean, the guy in the alley ran off, morgue guy, well I killed him again and I am not sure if you can count flies as zombies or not,” Dean leans against the Impala, he’s stunned, confused and trying to make sense of all of this.

“I’ve thought about that guy in the alley every day since it happened, even tried to keep an eye on the area for any zombie related attacks, but nothing so far. I figure he’s just living out his life like normal,” he’s trying to be logical about this, even though he knows that it all sounds illogical even to him.

“I don’t think I can wrap my head around this right now Sammy,” he looks at the last remaining bodies scattered on the ground ahead of them. “This is like a wonderland of opportunity for your,” he’s not sure what to call it, “Thing.”

Sam takes a deep breath; he thinks Dean is on some level frightened by what he can do. “The good news is, I might be able to kill them with a second touch,” he’s trying to be optimistic about this entire mess. He gives his best sheepish smile but it’s hidden by the bandana over his face.

“Annnd that makes this better how?”

“Not really sure Dean but whatever the reason, I can do it,” he thinks about it for a second. “I think, anyway. The first thing I’ve touched a second time was that body right there,” he points at the corpse. “I haven’t had a chance to test the theory out more extensively yet.”

“Should we test the theory?” Dean can’t believe he’s actually even considering it but if Sam really can bring them back with one touch and kill them with the second it is definitely worth knowing.

“I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders and can’t believe that Dean is actually suggesting that he do it again even if it is for the sake of science. “This is as good a place as any; but is it enough of a controlled situation though?” Sam pops the trunk and hands Dean the machete. “Just in case I am wrong about everything, don’t want our brains to be eaten,” Sam looks over at the bodies and picks out one that seems like it will not pose too much of a threat, it doesn’t have any legs so running away or overpowering them isn’t an option. “This one right here,” he points to it.

Dean walks over and stands next to it, he readies the weapon for striking if it doesn’t work. “Okay, this is as good a time as any,” he swallows hard, preparing to actually and knowingly watch Sam bring something dead back to life. He’s not sure which is worse, the fact that Sam can bring things back from the dead or knowing that he is about to do it that makes it much more different from the other times he’s been witness to it.

Sam steps up and wipes his hand on his jeans; he takes a nervous breath that doesn’t choke him this time. “Here goes,” he says twitching his fingers like he’s about to draw a gun from a holster at his hip. He takes one last look at Dean who is standing with a machete poised to come down on the head of the body if anything goes wrong. One more deep breath with a slow exhale as he places his finger on the temple of the body, the electric spark tingles through his finger sparking life into the corpse.

It springs to life and starts moaning in pain, he looks Sam in the eye and groans out “Why,” as if it knew it was dead or is asking him the question on its mind right before it died. He looks it in the eyes and tells it, “I’m so sorry,” he then looks at Dean who is tense and ready to strike and then touches it again on the temple. It falls limp and lifeless again. Sam looks up at Dean. “It worked,” he sounds almost giddy. He stands up and wipes the bloody finger on his jeans.

“Touch it again,” Dean commands.

“It won’t come back,” Sam tries to assure him.

“Sam, touch it again,” he stares at him with cold eyes and Sam knows behind that bandana Dean’s mouth is pursed in that hard grimace he gives him when he’s upset.

“Fine Dean, I’ll touch it again,” he leans down and touches the body again, and again and one last time. “See, dead as a door nail, satisfied,” he turns away and grabs another glove out of the trunk and puts it on. “Let’s finish this job,” he says dragging another body to the side of the road.

Dean just stares at Sam, his brain is buzzing with everything that has just happened, and he can’t quite comprehend the fact that his brother has a power or something that can do such a thing. He throws the machete in the trunk and starts to haul the last of the bodies off of the road; he doesn’t say anything more to Sam as they finish the job.

Looking over at Sam in the passenger seat, Dean has to ask him. “What do you think dad will think about this?”

Sam snaps his head in Dean’s direction with a shocked expression. “You can’t ever tell dad, he won’t understand.”

“He has to know Sammy,” Dean’s insistent about telling him.

“Is he ever going to look at me like I’m normal again if he knows about this? Tell me Dean, will he?” Sam’s almost in a panic.

“How are we going to keep something like this from him?”

“We have to, this has to be our secret, no one else Dean, ever,” Sam touches his shoulder in a pleading manner; he almost has tears in his eyes.

 

Dean thinks about it for a second before touching Sam’s hand. “Okay,” is all he’ll say, he gives Sam’s hand a gentle reassuring squeeze before letting go. “But it’s going to be hard to hide something like this from him.”

“Then we’ll have to be extra careful,” he’s relieved that Dean’s touch gives him hope but he still worries that if their father ever does find out about this, nothing is ever going to be the same again. 

[Chapter 2](http://j2-ficwhore.livejournal.com/30034.html)


	2. It Only Takes a Touch Ch 2/ nc-17/ Wincest_bigbang 2013

Since learning about Sam’s secret Dean has been struggling with it. He knows it plagues Sam, eats up his thoughts and dreams but doesn’t know how to help him.

Lying in bed with Sam draped over him like a blanket Dean’s cock is hard as a rock, the feeling of Sam’s heat bleeding through his thin cotton t-shirt is driving him crazy. He’s been fighting this for what feels like forever. He wants to make a move, run his fingers through Sam’s hair, kiss him on the forehead, tell him how he’s feeling but he just lies there sleeplessly frustrated, wishing that his father wasn’t in the other bed next to them.

He can’t take his eyes off of Sam as he watches him eat his Cornflakes and bacon while they wait for John to finish his meeting with some hunters in the other booth.

“What?” Sam asks when he sees Dean staring at him.

“Cornflakes and bacon?, Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” Dean smirks.

“Yes Dean I am pregnant, I’ve been waiting to tell you because well, I know you’d call the Examiner or Weekly World News and proclaim it a freaking miracle, first man ever to get pregnant by eating a watermelon seed,” he laughs as he takes another spoonful of cereal. “Would you rather I had bacon and Wheaties,” he shoves a slice of bacon into his mouth and chews it with his mouth open to irritate Dean.

“Nice Sammy,” he grabs a piece off of his plate and mocks Sam’s actions.

“Want some **see** food Dean,” he opens his mouth wide and waggles his bacon covered tongue at him.

Dean swallows hard at the sight of Sam’s mouth open wide, his tongue darting in and out flat and wide like he’s lapping the air, he completely forgets it’s covered with chewed bacon. “Nice Sammy, very mature,” he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

 

Sam holds his hands up triumphantly. “Score, I managed to gross you out,” he takes a long drink of his orange juice, “and choke myself on dry salty bacon in the process,” he coughs a little.

Dean laughs as he’s picking at the few remaining bites of his pancake. “Serves you right for teasing me,” he means it in every sense of the words.

Stepping up to the table John puts his hand in his pocket to pull out some money before giving the boys an order.” Boys go back to the hotel room and I’ll be there later, I’ve got some things to do,” John throws the money for breakfast on the table before starting to walk away.

Dean looks at him with confusion. “But I thought…”

John turns around and looks over his shoulder at Dean. “Do as I say son and don’t ask questions,” he turns back around and heads over to the group of men waiting at the exit.

Dean just stares at him; he catches Sam watching him with a sad look. “Whatever,” he says before sliding out of the booth and hurrying to the door.

“Hey Dean, wait,” Sam calls out as he shoves the last piece of bacon in his mouth while trying to catch up to Dean.

The hotel is just down the street, Sam and Dean are walking back when the Impala roars past them, the passenger seat taken up by a man they don’t even recognize and Dean gives a sulking expression in the direction of its taillights.

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder, his arm wrapping around Dean, across his back and up over his opposite shoulder. “Don’t let it bother you, he’s just being a dick,” he gives Dean’s shoulder a tiny squeeze before retracting his hand.

Dean smiles at Sam with softened eyes, the comfort of Sam’s hand, the way his arm is holding him, pulling him in closer and that tiny squeeze makes him all but forget about the way he was just dismissed by the man he calls his father. “Doesn’t matter,” his defensive words he uses to hide his feelings.

“It always matters,” Sam reaches up and squeezes Dean’s neck, letting his fingers linger a little longer than he normally would.

“Not always Sam, not always,” the hair on the back of his neck stands up as he gets goose bumps from the feeling of the purposeful soft caress of Sam’s fingers over his skin. The fact that they linger a little bit sends shivers down his spine and he almost feels lost in it.

 

Back at the hotel, Sam’s sprawled out across the bed reading while Dean’s stretched out beside him watching a cowboy flick and working on his second beer in under an hour.

Sam shifts and lays his leg over Dean’s, his bare foot pushing up the hem of Dean’s jeans. Dean looks down at the bare foot resting on his leg and bites his lower lip as he shifts his eyes over to Sam who seems to be engrossed in his book.

“Hey Sam,” he nudges his arm with his elbow.

Sam is brought back to reality. “Huh,” he looks down at his foot and realizes it’s tucked neatly inside of Dean’s pant leg. He wiggles his toes just to feel the hairs tickle them before slipping his foot back onto the bed. “Oh, sorry man,” he’s not really sorry because even though he’d never admit it out loud, he craves Dean’s touch, can’t get enough of it and takes every opportunity to steal it.

“Not a problem, I was just gonna ask you if you want a beer, I’m getting another,” he knows Sam’s underage by four years but hell, their alone in the hotel room what could it hurt.

He thinks about it for a second, it’s not like he hasn’t had a beer before, not like he hasn’t had whisky before either. “Sure,” he closes his book and sits up on the edge of the bed.

Dean hands him a cold bottle and their fingers brush over each other during the exchange. Sam looks down and smiles as a tiny tingle shoots through his chest and swallows hard. Dean’s eyes shift nervously when their fingers brush. The tension in the air is all encompassing; it’s surrounding them like a heavy cloud made of need.

Sam picks nervously at the label on his bottle and he settles in close to Dean again who has resumed watching the cowboy movie. “So,” his eyes are fixed on the tiny tab of label he’s managed to peel off as he works it between his thumb and forefinger.

“A needle pulling thread,” Dean replies.

Sam looks up at him and smiles, eyes wide with the memory of the movie quote game they’d play on long car rides when they were little. “The Sound of Music right,” he looks expectantly at Dean.

 

“Exactly,” Dean laughs and nudges into Sam just a little bit with his shoulder.

“I get them right sometimes,” he touches Dean’s thigh and feels it tighten under his touch so he quickly pulls it away. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he takes Sam’s hand and puts it back on his thigh, he leaves his hand on top of Sam’s and interlaces there fingers slightly as he continues to stare at the television. He’s nervous and not sure what Sam wants or thinks, maybe he’ll cold cock him or just whip his hand away with a loud obnoxious exclamation of Ewwwww but either way it’s a feared rejection.

Sam’s confused; he doesn’t know what to make of Dean’s fingers interlaced with his, the fact that Dean put his hand back on top of his thigh and covered it with his own. He wants to relax with the touch, the embrace of their hands but every muscle in his body is tense, he can feel his heart rate and breathing increase, a thin sheen of sweat covers his body almost instantly and to make matters worse, he now has a full erection.

He’s embarrassed, completely and utterly humiliated by the fact that he’s sprung a woody basically because of his brother’s touch, he wants to hide it, cover it up but all he can think to do is make a lame excuse to get out of the room. “I’ve got to..” he doesn’t even finish before he’s jumping off of the bed and running into the bathroom slamming the door behind himself. He’s panting nervously as he leans up against it, he’s not sure if Dean saw his erection or not but he’s not taking any chances, he’s not going out until it goes down.

Dean puts his ear to the door before knocking lightly on it. “Sam you okay in there,” he says with concern, not exactly sure what’s wrong.

Sam panics; he doesn’t want him to open the door so he presses his back tightly against it while bracing his feet on the floor. “Yeah, I’m fine, just give me a minute,” he’s sending a silent prayer up to whoever is listening to take some pity on him and make his erection go down so he won’t have to rub one out.

“Okay,” he listens quietly at the door for a few seconds before climbing back on to the bed. He has to adjust his jeans to accommodate his raging hard on.

Sam closes his eyes; his hands are balled into fists as he tries really hard to think about other things like baseball and ancient history but not the touch of Dean’s warm hand on his. The way his fingers fit perfectly between his and how much he wanted to lean over and kiss those ridiculously pouty pink lips. He curses under his breath because he can’t get Dean out of his head and the fact that his stone hard erection is still as apprents as when he ran into the bathroom. He swallows hard, rolls his eyes and then flushes the toilet for effect. He adjusts his dick so that it’s not so apparent that he’s got a boner for his brother and opens the door.

“You Okay,” Dean asks barely glancing up from the tv, like he has no interest in what the hell was going on in there.

“Umm yeah,” Sam clears his throat as he looks timidly at the bed.

“Well come on,” Dean urges as he pats Sam’s side of the bed. “It’s getting cold waiting for you.” Sam smiles awkwardly as he sits back down again.

“Ya know,” he starts to say but then just stares at Dean’s thick thighs spread open on the bed. He feels like he might hyperventilate or some stupid virgin-esque thing.

“I know what,” Dean asks watching Sam’s face flush, he’s sweating and he looks like he might throw up. “You okay Sammy,” he leans forward and feels his damp forehead for the signs of a fever. Sam pushes his hand away.

“I’m fine,” he says taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

“You don’t look fine,” Dean scoots closer.

“Look, I’m fine,” he makes eye contact with Dean; it’s like a tractor beam pulling him in. Those green eyes filled with concern and he can’t stop himself, his emotions take control and before he knows it, his lips are brushing against Dean’s.

There is a small amount of surprise when Sam’s face moves in close but once Dean realizes what’s happening he just leans in closer to Sam. Sam’s lips are warm as they caress in a soft tease over top of his. He can’t help it, he makes a tiny noise of pleasure as he lets himself taste Sam, lets his tongue barely slip out and glide along the opening of his lips and touch the tip of Sam’s tongue. He tastes like beer and juicy fruit gum, Dean thinks he’s never going to get enough of this taste.

The feel of Dean’s warm wet tongue over Sam’s bottom lip sends tingles straight to his throbbing cock. He lets a tiny exhale out and he keeps right on kissing Dean. He’s happy it’s well received because the consequences could have been drastic. Dean’s hand comes around Sam’s waist as he pulls him closer, Sam doesn’t resist as he scoots in so Dean can hold him tight.

“I never knew,” Dean says breathlessly. Sam smiles and looks down shyly as he bites his lower lip. “It’s been awhile,” Sam looks down at Dean’s mouth then back up into his eyes. “I never realized you felt like this too.”

They lean back on the bed, facing each other. Dean moves Sam’s hair out of his eyes so he can get a better view of them. Sam smiles and his eyes curve like they’re smiling too. “Is this wrong?” Dean asks quietly, his hand gripping Sam’s back as he holds him securely.

“Maybe,” Sam takes a deep breath then looks away for a second like he’s thinking and then back at Dean. “But it doesn’t feel wrong to me, it feels more right than anything in my life ever has,” he pulls Dean closer, their noses almost touching. “I’ve loved you forever or what feels like forever,” his hand comes up the back of Dean’s neck and cradles his head. “I know it has to be a secret, but I can keep secrets,” he leans in and kisses Dean’s mouth again, this time with more passion.

“Oh Sammy,” Dean sighs. He loves the feel of their flesh touching and lips caressing but he’s still hesitant. He studies Sam’s face like he’s never seen it before. “This should feel more desperate, shouldn’t it,” his hips are rocking into Sam’s and Sam is rocking back. It’s a gentle grinding that has them both on edge but for some reason, Dean wants to take this slow. Sam’s hand snakes down between them so he can push his hand down the front of Dean’s jeans. “Is this better,” he’s stroking Dean’s hard cock over his boxers. Dean closes his eyes and moans a little. “Yeah, like that,” he rocks harder into the touches.

Sam’s hand squeezes the hard flesh; he’s trying to do to Dean what he does to himself because he wants to do this right. “Like that,” his voice is husky not at all like he normally sounds. Dean likes it. “Good Sammy,” Dean moans. He slips his free hand down and squeezes Sam’s thick line pushing through his jeans. He’s never felt another man’s cock before so he takes a little time to really feel it, size it up and he’s surprised at Sam’s length and girth for his age. “Mmm nice cock Sammy.” Sam almost giggles while he’s increasing his strokes. He can tell Dean’s thick, thicker than him and he likes how it feels under his fingers.

“God, I want to see your cock so bad right now,” Sam says breathlessly, the hand on Dean’s neck is stroking softly over the soft bristly hairs at the nape of it.

Those words alone turn Dean on to the point that he pushes hard into Sam’s palm and comes without warning. Dean’s rocking his hips into Sam’s large palm as it presses hard against the shaft. “Fuck Sammy,” it’s the neediest sound Dean’s ever made when he’s come, his hips rocking impossibly hard as he works out his orgasm. Sam never stops stroking, “This is so hot,” he’s panting and squirming with Dean’s motions. “Never came with anyone before,” he pants out and before he can take another breath he feels his orgasm rip through him. “Christ,” he yells out and Dean can feel the wet heat pooling at the waistband of Sam’s jeans.

They rock into each other for a bit, grind their orgasms out as they kiss and fondle each others bodies. Sam’s squeezing Dean’s ass and Dean’s shoved his hands under Sam’s shirt to stroke up and down the lean muscles of his torso.

There is grunting and moaning and Sam almost comes a second time just from the excitement of it all but it’s cut short when they hear the Impala pull into the parking lot as John returns.

They scramble to their respective sides of the bed, Sam shoves his beer bottle under the bed and they cover up quickly to hide the wet spots on their jeans. Sam looks over at Dean as he hears the tumbler in the lock turning and smiles. “I can’t wait until next time,” he whispers and then rolls over to pretend he’s asleep.

 

There heading out the next day and this just might be the first time in years that Dean hasn’t bothered to call shotgun and Sam hasn’t tried to beat Dean into the front seat when he forgot to call it.

They climb into the backseat and John gives them a strange look. “I don’t get a navigator this trip,” he holds up the map. Sam and Dean just look at each other trying not to look guilty about anything.

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” Dean says as he stretches before folding his arms over his chest and settling in.

“Got to finish the last chapters of my book,” Sam holds up his book and smiles wide.

John shakes his head, turns back around and starts the car. “Your loss,” he mumbles.

 

Sam’s getting used to his ability, he’s extra careful when there are dead things to handle, the gloves help a lot with the lack of skin to skin contact. Dean’s not so freaked out by it anymore; he kind of accepts it in his own way. He’s even suggesting that they use it on occasions to help them on cases when they are at a dead end.

They still haven’t told John about Sam’s abilities, they figure the less he knows about Sam’s curse, the better. They’re damned careful each time he uses it that John’s nowhere near them to see it.

 

“Come on Sammy, just touch him, he probably knows what the demon was up to,” Dean prods.

Sam rolls his eyes and takes off a glove; he looks around to make sure their dad isn’t watching. “Hold him down Dean, we don’t need any more runners” he says as he prepares to touch the corpse.

“I got him, don’t worry about that,” Dean has his hands on its shoulders as he leans in with a tight grip and heavy pressure. “Just touch the dude already,” he says exasperatedly.

“Okay, okay,” he stretches his fingers, reaches out and touches the nose. The man’s eyes open, he screams and Sam stifles him with his gloved hand. “Shhhh,” he says consolingly. “It’s alright,” he lifts his hand from the mouth, the man tries to sit up but Dean has him pinned down pretty well.

“What?” he stammers as he struggles.

“Lay still,” commands Dean, the man obeys.

“We need to know if you heard any of the plans being made by the demon that possessed you,” Sam says softly. “It’s very important.”

“That’s what happened to me?” the man is clearly upset and confused. “It was terrible, you don’t even know what he made me do, what he did to all of those people,” he starts to cry. “There were two of them,” he looks pleadingly into Sam’s eyes.

“What were their plans?” Sam asks again.

“I don’t know, they just kept talking about how much carnage they could pile up behind them.”

“Are you sure that’s all they talked about,” Sam asks.

“That’s all I can remember, please, please just let me go,” he looks up at Dean. “Can I go now?”

“Sure,” Dean assures him as he’s giving Sam the nod. Sam looks down shyly then touches the man’s nose again; he dies quickly and quietly the second time.

They can’t always help, but it’s almost always worth the try.

Sam’s been taking every opportunity to use his “gift”; Dean is making sure of it now. He’s been practicing as much as he can and he’s discovered something new about it. He knows he can bring things back and send things back but he just discovered that if he lets someone live for longer than five minutes, something else dies and takes its place.

While on a hunt, Dean has Sam reanimate one of the victims of a demon slaying, they’re in the morgue at a hospital. Sam pulls the drawer open and touches the man’s hand, he sparks to life. While interrogating the victim an orderly comes in and catches them.

“What’s going on here?” he yells and rushes towards them. Dean stops him, puts his entire body in front of him and pushes him to the floor. The orderly sees the corpse he just put into the cooler drawer sitting up and looking down at him. His eyes go wide and he looks at Sam who is wearing a pair of work gloves. “You have it?” he says in shock. Dean looks over at Sam. “Have what?” Sam asks. “You can raise the dead,” the orderly struggles to get up. Sam stares at him, “That’s impossible,” he scoffs.

“You’re wearing heavy gloves and that dead man is talking to you from the slab in the drawer,” he pushes against Dean’s weight. Sam looks at Dean. “How long?” the orderly shouts.

“How long what?” Sam’s brow is knit and he’s trying to keep the corpse down on the slab.

“Has he been awake?” the orderly asks with urgency.

“About four minutes, what’s it to you?” Dean says holding his shoulders down.

“Touch him,” he shouts, “Touch him or one of us dies in about a minute.”

Sam scowls. “What are you talking about?” he stares at the man on the floor.

“Five minutes is all you have, if he’s still alive after five minutes, someone in the same proximity dies to take his place.”

“How do you know?” Dean’s disbelieving.

“I have the same power.” Dean quickly jerks his head towards Sam, his eyes wide. Sam raises his hand to touch the corpse and suddenly the orderly dies. Dean jumps up, wipes his hands on his jacket like it might be catching just as Sam’s finger touches the corpse who falls dead immediately onto the slab.

“Fuck,” Dean says, he’s still rubbing his hands on his clothes. “Just freaky,” he says as he shudders.

“Wow,” Sam’s pondering the thought. “I’m not alone, or maybe I am, now,” he looks at the bodies. “I never knew,” he’s thinking about the man in Chicago and who might have died to take his place.

Things seem to be going rather smoothly for Sam and Dean. John’s on a new mission with some other hunters so he’s been away more than he is around these days, which makes their romantic life simpler.

Sometimes they can’t manage to keep their hands off of each other for more than ten seconds and other times, its lazy cuddles while they watch television.

Sam does the research when John calls and Dean searches out leads, even does a little hunting on the side when something comes up close to a town they’re in.

Suddenly Dean’s leg falls over Sam’s lap. Sam looks up from the book he’s reading. “Trying to research here,” he pushes the hair away from his eyes so he can see Dean.

“And….” Dean’s smirking, his green eyes have a devilish glint and he waggles his left eyebrow in a come hither fashion.

“And, dad will be calling tonight expecting me to have found something,” he looks back at the book and breathes out exasperatedly.

“Nerd,” Dean wiggles his foot over Sam’s crotch. Sam looks up at him again, Dean’s smile is wider this time, and Sam’s hand is resting over his cock which is bulging inside of his jeans.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” his voice is playful, a slight smile across his mouth and his eyes aren’t moving from that bulge in Dean’s jeans. He swallows hard and takes a deep breath as he closes the book. “This doesn’t mean you’ve won.”

“Oh, of course not,” Dean leans forward and puts his hand behind Sam’s neck to pull him in for a kiss.

It’s tender at first, soft lips lavishing, barely parting with innocent sensuality. Dean’s hands groping until they are tangled in Sam’s soft locks, fingers threaded through the strands of hair, gripping lightly as he intensifies the kiss. He slips across Sam’s lap and straddles his legs.

 

Soft breathy sounds pass between them as Sam shoves his hands under Dean’s t-shirt to stroke the rippled muscle beneath warm smooth flesh. His fingers follow each ripple up to Dean’s chest then softly strokes the deep cleft at his sternum. His tongue slips out and follows the crease of Dean’s full lower lip before pushing gently inside to lave at the hot wet inner rim. Sam’s heart is racing, it’s a feeling he’s only ever experienced with Dean, that heavy fast pitter patter when Dean’s fingers touch his flesh.

There isn’t any space between them, Dean’s rutting hard against Sam’s body, and his mouth moves along Sam’s long neck. Sam tilts his head back to give him more to work over. He follows the thick columns of muscle down to follow along the hard collarbone where he sucks a red mark into the tanned flesh along the edge of Sam’s t-shirt.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dean’s breath is hot on Sam’s mouth as he pushes up his shirt and tucks it under his armpits to expose that long lean torso, his eyes explore every inch before he leans in and peppers it with kisses. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers into Sam’s skin before laving around his hard nipple then flicking over it with the tip of his tongue. Sam feels like he’ll come undone. His hands gripping Dean’s biceps, his fingers digging in deep as he tenses with the electric shock of Dean’s hot tongue on his sensitive nipple.

“Fuck, you’re going to pull me apart,” Sam’s words are lost in a tangle of moans and heavy breathing. He’s arching into Dean, his body instinctively wanting more contact. He wants to climb inside of Dean, be part of him, and he’s not sure if that will even be enough to satisfy him.

“Sammy,” Dean’s words are hot on Sam’s skin. He’s nuzzling and licking his way back up to Sam’s mouth. “I want you so much,” he crashes into Sam’s mouth with abandoned passion. His hands tear at Sam’s t-shirt trying to rip it off of his body. “Too much...” the fabric gives way and splits down the middle, he strips it off of Sam’s broad shoulders, “clothing,” the words are strained as he pulls the fabric over Sam’s arms and lets it fall off of his hands to dangle from the back of the chair.

“That might have been my favorite shirt,” Sam chuckles before shoving Dean’s plaid shirt off of his shoulders then pulling the t-shirt over his head. He examines Dean’s skin, “I love your freckles,” he runs his fingers over the sweat damp skin smattered with freckles. “I want to kiss every single one of them,” he leans in and licks the skin over Dean’s shoulder then kisses along the ridge and down over the shoulder to his bicep. His fingers dig in as he feels Dean tense the muscle like he’s showing it off. “So strong and built,” he bites the hard flank causing Dean to moan.

 

“Jesus, I need you so much Sam,” he’s running his fingers through Sam’s long soft hair. Dean’s hips are canting against Sam’s groin as he rubs over him. Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and cups his ass, both hands squeezing each rounded cheek. They’re pushing into each other as Sam stands, lifting their bodies off of the chair, Sam guides Dean onto the table then pushes him backward. “Fuck, Sammy,” Dean’s legs wrap around Sam’s waist as he pulls him down to hover over top. Sam’s long hair falls around his face as he stares down into Dean’s needy green eyes then leans in to kiss his glistening pink lips, he feels Dean’s body arch up into his. Dean returns Sam’s hard desperate kiss, their bodies smash together as Sam stretches out on Dean.

“There’s so much,” Sam runs his hands up Dean’s arms to remove them from his neck, he stretches them over Dean’s head and holds them there by the wrist. “That I want to do to you,” his eyes roam the length of Dean’s neck before sucking along his jaw line. “I want to make you,” his words are hot on Dean’s skin as he licks a circle around Dean’s pronounced adam’s apple. “Feel so good,” his voice vibrates into the hollow at the base of Dean’s throat. “Want me to make you feel good?” he stretches his body to reach one of Dean’s pert nipples, his teeth catch it and he rakes them up the reddening erect bud.

“Oh, Fuck. Yes,” Dean’s arching off the table with the pleasure pain shooting through his body like electrical fire.

“Good,” Sam says with a dark chuckle as he moves across Dean’s chest to the other nipple, only this time he sucks it hard into his mouth drawing the flesh up and rolling his tongue over the hot rough bumps before suddenly releasing it. Dean grips the tablecloth with both hands and moans, his hips thrusting into Sam’s hard bulge. Sam releases Dean’s wrists and he starts to move down his body, his tongue tracing a wet path down the well chiseled sternum to Dean’s navel.

His skin is extremely sensitive now and every wet wiggle of Sam’s mouth is making him breathe hard and gasp. His knees hit Sam’s armpits as Sam moves lower and lower on his body. He untangles his legs letting them fall off the edge of the table.

Sam’s working quickly to undo Dean’s belt buckle, his fingers undoing the brass buttons of Dean’s fly then shimming the jeans off of Dean’s hips. Dean arches up so Sam hooks his thumbs under Dean’s boxers as well as he pulls them both all the way down and off leaving them in a pile on the floor beside them.

He’s naked now, pale freckled skin laid out as Sam looks worshipfully at Dean’s full thick cock. He smiles as he runs his hands up Dean’s milky thighs to his groin; he lets his thumbs caress the wrinkled silky skin of Dean’s balls. He moves his hand up to the base of Dean’s cock and lifts it up, feeling the weight of it before spitting on his hand and stroking over it a few times. Dean fills the room with moans as Sam’s long fingers squeeze the head before slipping back down the shaft. Sam never takes his eyes off of the glistening flushed head, he watches it turn red as he squeezes it and stretches the wet slit when he pulls down over it to the shaft again. He loves the sounds Dean is making, the pleasure induced moans and breathy curse words he’s spilling out.

A few more strokes then Sam leans down to place his lips over the head, he swirls his tongue over the smooth flushed skin laving the slit to taste the precome gathering there. The tip of his tongue finds the mushroomed edge and slips along the underside teasing every nerve there. Dean squirms with the intense pleasure. “FUCK!” the word echoes through the room. Sam smiles then closes his mouth over the head again only to sink down, his lips smoothing over the shaft as he makes his way down. When he pulls up, Dean suddenly has his hand on the back of Sam’s neck. “Christ Sammy,” his words are hard exhales. Sam loves that he’s driving Dean wild, loves that he’s this turned on and all he’s done so far is use his mouth on him.

The room feels hot and tight as Dean lets the feeling of Sam’s mouth wash over him. His hips gyrating with each pass of Sam’s mouth over his cock. He wants to curse uncontrollably, to grab Sam’s hair and use it as a guiding tool but he doesn’t, he just lets Sam do what Sam does best, pleasure him with his mouth.

The feeling of Dean’s hands on Sam’s neck makes his senses become alert; the warmth of Dean’s palm on the nape of his neck and those strong fingers gripping loosely to either side of his neck feels amazing. He lets Dean’s cock hit the back of his throat this time, his nose brushing the soft curls at the base before pulling up again, his flat tongue licking a stripe over the shaft then curling over the head with a long slow lap. He mouths the head again then licks down the shaft with the back of his tongue to Dean’s balls where he softly wiggles the tip over the thick seam as he makes his way to the perineum. He presses hard over the tender strip of flesh behind Dean’s balls, pushes up while wiggling his tongue and Dean goes crazy, he’s moaning and writhing. Sam has to hold him down with a hand on each hip before he can move along the crease up to dean’s puckered hole. He circles it, teasing the tender flesh before licking over the hole with one wide wet lick.

He spreads Dean’s cheeks apart to get a view of his ass before tickling the sensitive rim by pushing in just a little bit with pointed tongue, flicking it softly inside of the tight ring then closing his lips around it and sucking slightly as he swirls around the ring again. Dean’s bucking against Sam’s face; he has one hand on his cock stroking it roughly and one hand on Sam’s neck holding his head in place. “Yeah, Sammy, lick my fucking ass. Work that magic tongue.” Sam obliges as he tenderly sucks and releases over his brother’s hole, making kissing noises and mewling at the thought of all the sensations he was giving Dean. He moves back to Dean’s balls and sucks one sac inside of his mouth and circles over it, pushing the hard testicle inside as he sucks at it. He lets the sac slip out of his mouth then moves to the other one and repeats his actions before opening wide and sucking both balls into his mouth at once. His mouth is full of Dean and he’d laugh at that thought if he wasn’t stuffed full of balls at the moment. He gently sucks at them, the saliva dripping off of his chin. Dean sits up on his elbow and looks down to see Sam’s cheeks full, his lips stretched and glistening with spit. “Holy fuck,” his cock jerks as he slowly strokes it.

When Sam opens his mouth to release Dean’s spit drenched balls, his lips are bright red from being stretched and he’s covered in saliva. He moves up to Dean’s cock again, putting his hand over Dean’s and stroking with him. “Gonna make you come, want to watch you when you come,” he’s smirking and giving Dean a dark look. He licks his lips seductively then kisses the slit of Dean’s blushed cock, the bead of precome painting his lips. They’re still stroking, Dean’s still on one elbow watching Sam, his eyes dark with lust, his breathing uneven and shallow and sometimes it hitches when Sam sends shock waves of pleasure through him.

“Want you to come with me,” Dean says his hand moving from his cock. “Let me take those tight jeans off,” he sits up, touches the back of Sam’s hand, Sam stops stroking, let’s go of Dean’s cock and stands up. His lower lip is caught between his teeth as he smiles with a coy teasing smile. He runs his fingers under the band of his jeans and pulls them out at the fly offering the button to Dean. “Oh Sammy,” Dean sits up and opens Sam’s jeans, his hand doesn’t fumble, doesn’t hesitate, just pulls the top button open and rips through the other four as if they aren’t even there. He looks up into Sam’s eyes as Sam watches, hand on his belly, fingertips resting just above his navel and chewing on his lower lip. “Fuck you’re so fucking sexy. Like an Adonis,” Dean moves Sam’s hand to lave at his navel, slipping his tongue into the small indentation, circling the soft fleshy rim then lapping at it several times. Sam makes his abdominals tight, arches his back and throws back his head. “Shit!” it sounds like a prayer, the way he whispers it to the sky then looks back down at Dean who’s yanking Sam’s jeans and boxers down to his knees.

There are several quick kicks and Sam’s jeans are kicked next to Dean’s along with his sneakers and one sock. Dean laughs. “Aren’t you going to take the other one off too,” he’s laying back to pull Sam on top of him.

“Nah, I’m busy right now,” Sam climbs onto the table and kneels over Dean, he spits on his hand and lines his cock up with Dean’s, and he wraps his big hand around both of their dicks then begins stroking them. Dean arches his hips into Sam’s body. “Jesus, feels so fucking good,” he reaches down and covers Sam’s hand with his to help him to jerk them off. “God, your hand,” he moans as he tries to make Sam squeeze tighter but Sam just keeps a loose grip around them and keeps a steady pace. He smiles and leans forward to put a hand behind Dean’s head and pulls him up so they are facing each other. He kisses him softly then more passionately, deeper, pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth and licking over his tongue. It’s sloppy and wet and totally amazing. Sam’s balls are tightening up, his hand is squeezing tighter and Dean loves every hard rough pull as he rocks his hips in time with Sam’s hand.

“I’m gonna make you come,” Sam reiterates. He’s holding Dean’s head in the palm of his hand as he rubs the soft hairs on the back of his neck. “I love you Dean,” he says lustfully as he increases the speed of his strokes. “You are my life,” his words soft and sexy. He ruts harder against Dean’s cock as he starts thumbing the heads when he pulls up. Dean’s lost in bliss, Sam’s words cutting through the fog like a knife and he swallows hard. “Love you too Sammy,” his arm pulls Sam in tight as he stares into his hazel eyes.

They’re rocking into each other; their hands moving at a fast pace now, bodies pushed tight only sweat slicking the friction between them. Sam’s breathing hard, Dean’s panting and moaning. Sam’s body tenses and he stops rocking, he’s arching his back as he lets his orgasm rip through him, a hot shiver runs up his spine and he comes hard, the come shooting up between them and hitting Dean’s chest. Dean smiles at Sam’s expression, his hand is still jerking them both as he works Sam through his orgasm. “Good, come for me baby, come on me baby,” his hand smearing the ejaculation over their cocks.

Its a few seconds later and Dean’s grunting, his hand stuttering as a pool of heat floods his belly then down to his balls and he comes hot and thick onto Sam’s abs. He shivers as the final spurts squeeze out over their hands. “Fuck,” he grunts and slumps into an already spent Sam.

Sam lowers them down onto the table and he lies over Dean like a blanket, their come mingling as their cocks soften. Sam kisses Dean, nuzzles his nose, and then runs his thumb over his chin and up his jaw line as he looks into his eyes. “Always you Dean,” he says before burying his face in Dean’s neck. Dean smiles, wraps his arms around Sam and kisses the top of his head, “Always you Sammy.”

  


[Chapter 3](http://j2-ficwhore.livejournal.com/29909.html)


	3. It Only Takes a Touch Ch 3/nc-17/ Wincest_bigbang 2013

Its a few days later and John is back. He doesn’t call, doesn’t give them any indication that he’s coming back, he just shows up in the middle of the night.

The boys know that when he comes back, he’s always ready to move on to the next town.

Sam wakes up, he hears the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot, the headlights shine bright through the open curtains, and he quickly shakes Dean. “Get up, dad’s back,” he says frantically. Dean turns to look at Sam groggily. “What,” he’s rubbing his eyes.

“Get up,” he kicks Dean shoving him to the edge of the bed. The sound of the key rattles in the lock and Dean jumps up, “Shit,” he whispers frantically as he slides into the other bed and acts like he’s just waking up when the door swings open.

“Dad,” Dean says quietly as he rubs his eyes.

“Yeah,” John doesn’t say much just throws his duffel on the floor, the sound of the shotgun inside thunks against it. Sam sits up like the sound woke him. “Dad,” he uses his sleepy voice. “It’s me son,” he takes off his jacket then sits on the edge of Sam’s bed to take off his boots. “Go crawl in with Dean,” he commands Sam. Sam panics, they had sex tonight so there is come, sweat and saliva on the sheets. Dean looks over at Sam with wide eyes. “I’ll climb in with you Sam,” he quickly slips into bed with Sam.

John gives them a quick sideways glance. “You know how Sam sweats, it’s damp over here, my bed is nice and dry,” he nudges Sam. “Yeah, my sweat glands have been really active,” he says it with a shaky voice then elbows Dean in the stomach under the covers.

“I just need some sleep,” John falls into the bed without even undressing.

When Sam wakes up, Dean is draped over him; face buried in his neck and Dean’s hand is resting across his belly. “Wake up,” he whispers, the sound of John’s snoring drowning out his voice. He shoves Dean’s shoulder and moves his hand. “Wake up,” he urges. “Dad’s gonna catch us.” Dean opens his eyes and smiles. Sam’s warm body under his always feels good. “Morning,” his hand skims across Sam’s hip and lands on his crotch. Sam shoves it off of him and sits up quickly. “Are you nuts?” he shouts in a whisper. He points to the other bed. “Dad,” he says emphatically. Dean jumps up. “Shit, dad!” he can’t believe he forgot about their dad sleeping two feet away from them.

By the time John gets up, the boys have gone out and gotten coffee and doughnuts and are quietly talking at the small table in the corner. “Boys,” he says as he rolls out of bed, he cracks his back, scratches his beard and grabs his duffel bag, “I’m hitting the head.”

When he comes out he’s clean shaven with new clothes on. He looks the boys up and down before sitting down at the table. “Coffee,” Dean offers as he pushes a reheated Styrofoam cup in his direction. “Thanks son,” he smiles while reaching into the box of fried treats.

“So, dad, what’s happening?” Sam asks, his fingers fluttering the pages of a closed book. He’s always more on edge when their dad is around.

John takes a big bite of his doughnut and a swallow of coffee, the doughnut is still filling his cheek when he answers. “Got a lead on some Were’s in Indiana, think we’ll head up there next.”

Sam looks at Dean then back at John. “Okay, but what happened with the Vampire nest you were going after?”

John shoves the rest of the doughnut into his mouth before answering. “It’s done, lost a few of the crew so I decided to come back and leave the rest to the others,” he drinks the rest of his coffee in a few swallows. “We might want to get on the road; Indiana is a day’s ride away.”

When John’s ready to move on, there is no lagging, no wait I have to pack my bags, just grab your gear and let’s roll. This is why the boys never leave things laying around and always put everything back in their duffel bags right away.

Sam packs the Impala as John throws his duffel in the front seat of the pickup he’s driving. “I’ll lead,” John says closing the door.

When they reach Indiana, John has a motel room booked in advance so he texts them the coordinates to follow him to the Shady Brook Motel.

They see their dad leaning on the front bumper of his truck, arms folded and eyes squinted from the setting sun. “Bout time you got here,” John says impatiently as Dean gets out of the Impala. He makes no excuses because he knows better. “Yes sir.” John throws him the room key. “Let yourself in. I have the bed next to the bathroom, I’ll be back later.” There is nothing fatherly about it and nothing endearing, just, here’s the key with the implied, now go take care of yourselves, just like it’s always been.

 

Sam looks at the beds. “Damn, they’re not even queen sized,” he flops down on one. Dean laughs and waggles his eyebrows. “We can be closer without suspicion,” he stands between Sam’s spread knees.

“That’s always on your mind,” Sam smirks and rolls his eyes.

“Like its not always on yours,” he runs a finger over Sam’s knee making tiny circles over the kneecap.

“Weeeeelll” he’s smiling, his dimples showing as he bites on his lower lip. “Only when you’re around,” he squeezes his knees together against Dean’s knees and he falls forward catching himself, arms on either side of Sam’s shoulders before he’d land on top of him. “Sneaky,” he’s grinning as he leans in for a kiss.

They’re kissing and rutting against each other, hands holding tight, bodies writhing and undulating as they make out. Hot breath, filthy words breathed out during fevered kisses and spit drenched lips move along sweat glistened flesh. Dean rips off Sam’s shirt as Sam works at the buttons on Dean’s jeans. It’s hot and passionate, they’re hard and desperate, and they can’t undress fast enough to get down to business.

Sam’s laughing as he pulls Dean’s boots off to yank his jeans down when he hears a heavy vehicle door slam shut. He stops, stands still and listens. “What’s wrong?  
” Dean asks. “Shhhhh, listen,” Sam drops Dean’s legs. Dean perks up his ears. Suddenly they hear John’s voice. “Hi,” is all he says but they know it’s him. Dean jumps up and pulls his jeans up, doesn’t have time to put his shirt on so he quickly turns on the tv and lays across the bed. Sam’s not as lucky; his jeans are off as he’s standing in his boxer shorts at the end of the bed. He is able to get his t-shirt back on and over to the table just before the door opens.

“Boys,” he has a bucket of chicken and a six pack of beer. They’re trying to look nonchalant. “I brought food,” he holds the bucket up.

“Awesome,” Dean gets up, his dick is still half hard and he quickly adjusts it while no one is paying attention.

They eat and barely talk. Sam picks at his chicken while Dean devours several pieces and downs his second beer. “Dude, do you want your beer?” he asks Sam. Sam shakes his head no. “Cool, thanks,” he pops it open and takes a long swig.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go up to the Werewolf grounds. They have a place in the country where they have a commune,” John looks at both boys. “Been a lot of wild animal killings here lately and tomorrow is the start of the full moon.”

“Should be prime time for them,” Sam says clicking the keys on his laptop.

“Weres can’t control themselves at all, the moon goes full and they’re wild beasts,” Dean picks his teeth with a toothpick. “I got silver bullets and that Djinn silver tipped knife in the box.”

“And it’s the start of a full moon cycle tomorrow, should find some interesting signs if it’s them,” John cracks his last beer.

“Says here,” Sam interjects. “There have been three killings in the last two months. Possible bear or wild dogs are being blamed and they’re all in the same Cedar Creek area. A woman was mauled to death on the bank of Cedar Creek by what appears to be a bear attack and two men were found dead near Cedar Creek during a camping trip. They were torn apart by what looks to be wild dogs.”

“Good times,” quips Dean.

“Yeah, that group is living in secluded cabins up in that area. I really believe that they are the werewolves, it just fits together,” John says. “We’ll check it out tomorrow, but for now, I’m crashing for the night,” he doesn’t even bother to take anything off including his boots, just lies across the bed with his last beer and stares at the TV until he passes out.

 

Dean’s doing a last check of everything in the trunk, putting silver bullets in the gun clips and loading the shotguns with silver rounds. He slips the silver tipped knife into his wrist holster and checks his flask to make sure it’s well filled. He heads back inside where Sam and John are mulling over a map, they look up. “All ready to roll,” he points his thumb behind himself and John rolls up the map. “Let’s hit the road,” he says pushing past Dean and laying a hand on his shoulder.

They turn off onto a dirt road, it’s more of a driven down path, and it’s apparently not traveled often with the grass grown high in the middle of the worn tire ditches. It seems to go on forever, through a clearing and into the woods, wrapping through clusters of trees and along the well worn sides of the riverbank.

The sun is setting and John warns Dean not to use his headlights. As they get farther from the sound of the rushing water the Impala’s engine rumble is echoing through the dense forest. John touches Dean’s shoulder. “We walk from here.”

They gear up with as much as they can handle comfortably because there is still about a mile to go in the rapidly approaching darkness.  
They can see lights ahead, sounds of people and dogs barking. John puts his arm out and stops them. He signals for Dean to move left and Sam right while he takes the middle as they slowly approach the few scattered ramshackle homes along the riverbank.

They’re hunkered down behind some trees watching when Sam hears leaves crackling and twigs snapping behind them. He turns to see what might be coming when a scream comes from a woman ahead of them and the dogs start barking and growling frantically, the sound of their chains rattling as if they are choking themselves to get free. John bolts forward when he sees a very large doglike creature bolting across the yard at her.

Dean lunges to follow as Sam turns to see another giant doglike creature behind them. Its fangs bore, its breath cutting the cool night air as it begins to growl. “DEAN,” Sam yells. He reaches for his shotgun but it’s on him before he has the chance to raise it.

The sounds of tearing flesh can be heard, John’s firing his pistol at the creature, it turns to look at him with red fangs as other people rush from the homes screaming. Two more animals emerge from the woods and a chaotic frenzy of carnage happens.

Dean’s halfway to the house to help John when he hears Sam, he turns only to see one of the creatures hovering over him, its drooling fangs ready to bear down. “SAMMY!” he charges forward, his pistol drawn, he fires several times at the creature that he now clearly recognizes as a werewolf. “GET THE FUCK OFF!,” he screams as it turns its attentions now to Dean.

John’s firing rapidly, unloading his pistol at it then moving on to his shotgun, double shots and trying to reload when he’s struck from behind. He’s put down three of the four when the fifth comes out of nowhere. The powerful force of a lunging wolf knocks him to the ground.

The wolf flies at Dean; it sails through the air at least twelve feet before it even comes close to him. Its massive bulk and red eyes are pushing through the thin line of brush between him and Sam, and it takes no time before landing only inches from Dean.

Sam’s on his feet and shoving a clip into his pistol, he’s preparing to aim when he hears their dad screaming. “BOYS!” it’s a painful cry, desperate and scared. He’s focusing on the wolf in front of him. “DAD!” he calls out, his hands starts shaking.

Dean doesn’t have the distance or the time to pull his gun; he drops it to the ground and instead pulls his silver tipped blade. The wolf snarls, large paw coming up to strike him, it hits his leather sleeve but doesn’t penetrate the fabric. “Come on you bastard,” he huffs in a low tone. They’re doing a dance, lunge and strike around in a circle, and then it’s quick and powerful when Dean slashes the wolf, his blade cutting through the hide at its neck. He plunges the blade in, forcing the wolf to the ground. He straddles it, twists the knife and it makes a whimpering sound like a hurt puppy before the last exhale of breath snorts from its nostrils.

Sam rushes past Dean, his gun drawn as he forces through the brush to reach their dad. He sees blood, a pool of it around John as two wolves tear at his unmoving body. Sam stops, it takes his breath away for an instant, he can’t think, just aims with a dead eye and shoots one wolf in the head, it drops immediately and the second charges at him with the barreling force of an elephant. Its mouth painted red with his father’s blood. Suddenly, the sounds of shots boom from behind him before he can get another shot off. Dean’s coming up on him, guns blazing like something out of the old west. He hits the wolf in its flank but it doesn’t even slow it down. Running on pure adrenalin it blows past Sam and heads for Dean. Four more shots ring out and Sam sees one explode into its breast area but it keeps going. The bullets don’t seem to phase it.

Before Dean can get out of its way, it jumps on him. Its weight and the sheer force of the speed throw Dean to the ground, knocking the gun out of his hand. He struggles to pull the knife from his pocket but the wolf has him pinned down. Its staring into his eyes like it can read his mind as it growls, a low deep sound that sounds like its trying to form words. Dean manages to get the knife; he can’t get enough force to do anything but weakly cut through the thick hide just enough that it steps backwards. Blood seeping from the three wounds, Dean can’t figure out how this wolf is still standing.

Sam’s coming up behind them when he sees Dean jump to his feet and strike the animal again but this time the wolf rears up like a horse and throws Dean backwards against a tree stump, his body striking it with such force that he bends almost in half backwards. He slides down the tree lifelessly. “DEAN!,” Sam calls out as he sees the wolf lunge forward at Dean’s body. He pulls up his weapon and fires four times into the animal. It falls on top of Dean, dead. Sam rushes over, quickly pulls his gloves from his pocket and puts them on. He pulls the wolf off of Dean’s body.

He looks back at the houses in the distance, knows his father is back there dead, looks back at Dean and then the wolf as it transforms back into a young man with red hair lying crumpled on the ground, bloody wounds riddled over its pale skin. He doesn’t check Dean since he thinks he’s unconscious so he proceeds to check the perimeter before going back to see if there is anyone he can save.

There are bodies everywhere. Werewolves turned back to human form, adults and several small children, everyone is dead. He walks over to John, his body torn apart. He can hardly look, tears forming in his eyes as he kneels down beside him. The extensive wounds make it impossible for Sam to bring him back, he’d never be normal and probably die in several hours in excruciating pain. “Dad,” his lip is quaking, the tears rolling down his face. He strokes his blood soaked hair then over his beard before closing his eyes. “No matter what, I always loved you, even when we were fighting,” he puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes tight before heading back to Dean.

He’s stepping back into the woods when he hears a low noise like someone moaning in pain. He rushes over, a young woman is gasping for air, a body on top of her. Sam moves it and picks her up. “We’ll get you help, hang on, it’ll be alright,” he reassures her. She smiles weakly as he rushes through the woods with her.

He sees Dean still laying on the ground, his body not moving and no visible breathing. He puts her against the tree and rushes over to him. He lifts his head, the blood on his gloves streaking Dean’s pale cheek. He quickly searches his body for wounds, but nothing, he knows he’s dead. Sam falls to the ground, Dean’s body against the stump, half lids covering his dead stare as his head lulls off to the side. Sam starts to cry, his heart is breaking into a million pieces, and he pounds the ground then covers his tear streaked face. He’s sobbing into his hands. “Dean. Why? I can’t..,” his sobbing hitches and he wails as his hands fall limp onto his thighs. He arches his back and screams into the night, hands balled into fists.

 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying here, how long he’s been staring at Dean’s body but the sound of the young girl moaning startles him back to reality. He looks at her, knows she needs help but he can’t leave Dean, can’t live without him. Sam looks at his hands, the blood stained gloves, his father’s blood covering his hands, streaked on Dean’s face and he knows what he has to do.

He inches closer to Dean, slips one glove off and looks down at Dean’s lifeless body. “I can’t live without you,” he whispers as he closes his eyes and touches the pale freckled cheek. A spark happens like he’s never felt before and Dean’s eyes flutter, he looks up at Sam confused. “Wha..?” he tries to look around.

“Shhh,” Sam smiles down at him, tears in his eyes.

“Where’s dad?” he tries to sit up but can’t.

“He’s gone,” Sam cautiously helps Dean sit up. He looks back at the woman who is moaning.

“What, take me to him,” Dean struggles to his feet. He notices Sam has the gloves on, he looks into his eyes afraid to ask.

“It’s no use Dean,” Sam’s lip is quivering but yet his heart is full of love, his brother is back, the man he loves more than anyone in this world.

“Take me to him,” he commands. Sam takes his arm to help him. “Why the gloves Sam,” he looks at his hands then back into his eyes. He knows the answer but he wants to hear Sam say it.

“I..” he’s interrupted by a loud moan from the woman. Dean looks over at her as Sam rushes over. Dean limps behind. “Who is she?” Sam lifts her head. “We need to get her help,” he’s picking her up when she takes a breath then exhales falling limp in Sam’s arms. He looks at Dean who closes his eyes. “Five minutes,” he says quietly. Sam looks down. “Yeah,” he lays her down gently.

“Take me to dad,” Dean’s heart is quivering with fear and sadness. He’s not sure if he can breathe right now and he wants to be pissed at Sam but doesn’t have the strength. Sam leads him to John’s body. Dean falls on his knees next to him. His heart is broken in half as he touches him. Dean’s eyes fill with tears; he looks up at the sky and swallows hard. “Why,” he closes his eyes and a single tear falls down his cheek. His lower lip is quivering. “I always tried, did what you wanted, you didn’t deserve this, I couldn’t protect you,” he can barely breathe, his voice is quiet and rough. “I should have saved you,” he looks down at his body torn apart, blood and open flesh. “You didn’t deserve this,” he rubs a hand over his eyes before standing up. Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder and Dean shakes it off. He looks over at Sam with a dark emotionless expression. “We need to bury him,” he’s numb, trying to figure out why he was saved and his dad is dead, the better hunter is dead.

Dean’s still too weak so Sam buries John; it’s an unmarked grave out in the woods of Indiana on the banks of the Cedar Creek River.

Dean insists on driving even though he can only steer with one arm and he’s still quite foggy headed. Sam doesn’t protest. The drive back seems to take forever as Sam looks out the window and Dean focuses on the road ahead. They don’t speak, Sam worried that Dean will blow up on him and Dean just doesn’t know what to say.

When they reach the motel it’s more silence, as Dean goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. He strips down to shower, his arm hurts and his back feels like it’s broken. He looks in the mirror, his back is one giant black and blue mass and his arm might be broken if the swelling is any indication. The warm water feels good, his head is spinning with everything that’s happened and he breaks down and cries. He’s crumpled forward, head against the shower wall, arms folded across his body sobbing. He’s crying for his father and for the fact that he can never feel the touch of Sam again; he’ll never know his warmth, never be intimate with him ever again. He’s lost his father and his brother and he wishes Sam hadn’t brought him back.

When Dean comes out Sam’s sitting on the edge of the bed, he looks over and sees the bruising and Dean’s swollen arm. “It’s probably broken,” he holds up an ace bandage and a broken wooden spoon handle. “Want me to set it?” Dean scowls at him. “How is that supposed to happen?” he sits on the other bed.

“I can touch you with gloves on,” Sam says sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Dean says gruffly but he refuses to look directly at Sam.

“Let me help you,” he starts to move over to the other bed. Dean stands up.

“Haven’t you helped enough,” he moves away from Sam. Sam stops and throws down the bandage and supplies.

“Fine Dean, you don’t want my help, you don’t want to be here, I can make that happen,” he turns his back on Dean, tears welling up in his eyes. “I lost you and I lost dad, what did you want me to do, go on without you both?”

“Because you saved me, that girl died. She’s dead because of me, because I’m alive,” he picks the bandage up and throws it across the room. “Am I supposed to live with that?”

“I have to live with that too. I saved you Dean, because I can’t go on without you, because I love you, because, you are everything to me. It wasn’t an easy decision; I had to think about it. I didn’t just rush over and touch you to bring you back. I collapsed, I cried, I went numb for a few hours that felt like an eternity, and then when I couldn’t take it anymore. I brought you back.” Dean looks at Sam’s face, sees the agony and loss in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have asked for it,” his voice is a little bit softer. “I have to live without your touch, now,” he wants to hold Sam, console him while he lets the embrace console himself too.

“You think I haven’t thought about these things, you think what I did, doesn’t weigh heavy on my shoulders too. I have to live with every single thing I’ve ever done and this gift, this thing I can do, it’s not easy Dean, it’s the hardest thing anyone could ever have. I control life and death with the touch of my finger. Sure, I push it out of my mind when I’m not using it or surrounded by dead things. I think about how many people I may have accidentally killed over the years before I knew about the five minute rule or how much pain some of the people I brought back for a mere few minutes might have been in. This isn’t easy and bringing you back, letting her die, it’s just one more thing on the pile of guilt but I don’t regret one single act of it, not one stroke of my finger not one stroke of the minute hand, because it’s you Dean, you that I saved and if that hurts you too much and you want me to touch you again, I will. I’ll do it, for you,” Sam collapses in the chair, tears rolling down his face.

Dean’s bewildered; he’s just staring at Sam, watching him as if he’s watching a movie and this is the tragic ending. “Sammy,” he sits down on the edge of the bed. “What are we going to do?” he wants to reach over and touch him, run his hand down Sam’s arm and hold his hand but he can’t and he feels defeated. Sam looks up. “I don’t know,” he sniffles and wipes his hand over the end of his nose. “All I know is that this is the beginning of us without dad or each other for comfort, for the first time in our lives and we have to learn to live with it.” Dean looks down at the floor and sighs mournfully.

It’s a tear in their relationship, a rift that makes itself known for awhile from this day forward. There are so many things they can’t do and a few things that they figure ways around.  


  
[Chapter 4](http://j2-ficwhore.livejournal.com/29457.html)


	4. It Only Takes a Touch Ch 4/nc 17/ Wincest_bigbang 2013

There is no touching of any kind without protective gear. This means, no sleeping in the same bed, sitting too close is a no, no, and riding in the Impala is a high hazard too. Sam rides in the back most of the time now unless he’s driving and when he does ride up front, its gloves, long sleeves and a pile of something stacked on the seat between them.

They haven’t tried anything sexual because to be honest, even on their horniest days, the thought of death by sex, isn’t that appealing to Dean and being Dean’s sexecutioner doesn’t appeal much to Sam either.

 

It’s not exactly the worst motel they’ve ever stayed in but they aren’t being choosy tonight either. It’s the first motel off of the highway and they’re both beat after a nine hour drive with little sleep. Sam is ready for any bed he can fall into.

While waiting for Dean to come out with the key, Sam notices a couple entering one of the rooms, they’re all over each other, hands groping and their bodies tight together. They share a passionate kiss before the man opens the door and they fall through it, into the room and slam the door shut. It makes him think about all those times he and Dean were so worked up, so hot for each other after a hunt that they could barely make it to the motel. He smiles at the thought of all the times they couldn’t and the Impala became their sex ride. All the times they did make it back, barely, and fell through the door in each others arms, sometimes not making it to the bed at all but on the floor, in a close chair or across a perfectly placed table. He misses those days, yearns for them again but he knows they are gone forever.

“Earth to Sam, come in rocket man,” Dean says as he waves his hand in front of Sam’s face. Sam’s startled out of his thoughts. “Penny for those thoughts,” he’s heading to the room. Sam blushes a little and lowers his eyes. “They must have been some sexy thoughts, you never blush, well unless…,” he trails off, a dirty smirk turning up at the corner of his mouth. He’s sliding the key in the door. “We don’t talk about those days any more,” he turns the latch and opens the door. Sam rolls his eyes and looks over at the door next to them and bites his lip. It’s their room, the uninhibited sex couples room. He sighs and mumbles under his breath. “It’s going to be a long night.”

They’re exhausted and starved. They have a sack of burgers and fries along with a six pack of beer they brought with them. They eat in silence as the sound of the neighbors making wild passionate love seeps through the wall. Sam looks cautiously at Dean as he bites into his burger and Dean doesn’t say a word.

“I’m gonna clean up,” Sam disappears into the bathroom. The sound is worse in the tiny tiled room and he can barely bathe for the raging hard on he’s developed from the loud sounds of passion. He manages to finish without jerking off, because he only gets off anymore when Dean’s not around and as tempting as it is tonight, he just can’t bring himself to do it.

Dean’s staring mindlessly at the television, his eyes half lids. “Bathrooms free,” Sam says tapping the end of the bed as he passes. His hair is wet and dripping making his t-shirt see through in spots. Dean looks at him, his mind filled with lusty thoughts due to their neighbors. He licks his lips then exhales softly with submission to the fact that he can’t do anything about being horny, with Sam. “Just gonna sleep,” he’s far too tired to worry about it and if he goes in that bathroom, he’ll just jack off and he doesn’t do that with Sam around anymore.

They try to sleep but end up just laying there staring at the ceiling, semi hard and frustrated. Dean shifts his pillows a dozen times as Sam rolls back and forth, covering and uncovering as he huffs in defeat.

“Alright already, how much Viagra did you take!” Dean shouts as he hits the wall with his pillow then bangs on it with his fist. “TRYING TO SLEEP GODAMIT!”

“Think they heard you?” Sam laughs.

Dean flops onto the bed exasperated. “Better fucking have,” he grumbles.

Sam throws him his extra pillow and it lands on his face. “Sorry,” Sam snickers.

“Want a pillow fight do you,” Dean throws it back hitting Sam in the chest. Sam flings it back and double barrels him with the second pillow. “Take that fucker.” They throw the pillows back and forth a few times until they’re both out of breath from laughing hysterically about it.

Sam falls back on the bed clutching one of the pillows; his hair is a static tussled mess. “Ahh, I needed that laugh,” he looks over at Dean who is smiling as he adjusts a pillow behind his head. Sam’s eyes fall on the bulge in Dean’s boxers and he swallows hard. His own erection pushing tight to his boxers, he quickly pulls the cover over his waist so Dean won’t see it. Sam listens. “I think they died of exhaustion or his time is up,” Sam starts laughing again.

“Bout time,” Dean says as he pulls the covers up to his neck. “Now for some much needed sleep,” he turns his back to Sam.

Sam watches his strong back and broad shoulders, the way his t shirt spans his muscular body and he wants to crawl in bed and spoon him. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

The sound of the headboard from next door bangs against the wall, the woman is moaning and crying out. Sam wakes up and rolls over, Dean’s just lying there, arms folded staring at the ceiling. “Again,” he says groggily.

“Fucking again,” Dean’s tone is both dry and disgusted. “Started about an hour ago, surprised you didn’t hear it.”

“I must have been dead to the world,” he wonders if Dean was awake for other reasons when it started again.

“You’d have to be dead, not to hear that,” he pounds on the wall. “Can’t I just have some peace?”

Sam’s as frustrated as Dean is and in all the same ways. “Can’t beat’em and surely can’t join’em,” Sam adjusts his quickly growing cock. Dean just gives him a sideways glace. Sam clears his throat and gives Dean a timid glance. “We could always masturbate.” Dean’s head snaps quickly to Sam.

“What,” he’s surprised and confused.

“We could jerk off together,” he replies timidly. “You know, talk each other through it, and watch each other doing it?”

“So you want to watch me yank one off,” he kind of likes the idea.

“Wouldn’t you like to watch me? Cause when we were able to fuck, you used to tell me to jerk off on you all the time, told me you loved it,” he waits for Dean’s response. He wants to do this, wants to be intimate with Dean again and if this is the only way, he’s willing to take it.

Dean’s heart is racing, the thought of Sam jacking off and shooting it on him, has him even more excited, his hard cock is throbbing with the idea of it. He licks his lips slowly as he slides his hand down the front of his boxers. “Alright,” he’s watching Sam intently. Sam smiles, sits up on the edge of the bed and pulls out his cock.

“We’ll take this nice and slow,” he’s speaking slowly; his voice is husky and thick with desire. Dean switches on the light.

“Want to see you,” his hand is working slowly over his dick as he watches Sam’s hand softly strip his own cock. “Tell me what you want to do to me,” his eyes meet Sam’s with the request and Sam swallows hard, his pupils visibly get bigger and his breath hitches in his chest.

“Whatever I want to do to you,” he asks with hesitation, like he has things he’s never told Dean he wants to do.

“Anything you’d want to do,” Dean’s hand works a little faster at the thought of what things Sam might have been harboring over the last two years.

“Better slow down, this could take awhile,” Sam smiles mischievously, “Wouldn’t want you blowing your load halfway through our adventure.”

“Shut up and voice fuck me already,” his half lidded eyes catch the light from the lamp and they look almost emerald green.

Sam removes his boxers and adjusts himself so that Dean can see him, every inch of his naked body sprawled out across the bed. His legs pulled up and splayed open, his long cock is hard and lying along his thigh as his balls are completely exposed. He’s on display for Dean, knows he needs to be his complete fantasy if this is going to work.

“I’d start slow and move my mouth along your collarbone, suck and kiss my way to the hollow of your throat where I’ll dip my tongue into it. Swirl it around before sucking at it, kissing the column of your throat, mouthing at your adam’s apple then back down your neck,” Sam’s voice is seductive as he describes each detail of what he wants to do to Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean’s voice is quivering as he imagines Sam’s mouth on his skin. He puts his thick rough fingers over the spots Sam’s describing and caresses each one. His eyes are fixed on Sam’s mouth as he watches the words form and spill out for his pleasure. “Do you bite me?” he asks breathlessly. His hand is squeezing the head of his cock ever so gently as he waits for Sam’s next string of sentences.

“Don’t worry about that Dean; I’d mark you up as pretty as you’d like me to. I’d nip and suck my way down over your chest, paying close attention to those extra sensitive nipples,” his breath is coming faster and his voice is deeper as his own arousal takes hold. He’s slipping his hand down over his thigh to encircle the base of his cock. Thin long fingers wrapping around his thick hard cock and Dean’s watching every sinuous movement of Sam’s hand. He mimics it when it starts slowly stroking up and down the long shaft, keeping in time with Sam’s rhythm.

“I’d run my tongue down the crevasse between your ribs to your navel. Spit slicking my way, leaving a glistening trail as I circle around it before closing my lips and sucking at it,” Sam’s voice hitches. “Probing my tongue inside and lapping.”

“That always tickles,” Dean dips his fingers inside of his navel as he pretends its Sam’s hot tongue. “What else, Sammy,” he’s almost begging. He’s on edge, the words are teasing like a Penthouse story on tape read by his impossibly hot brother and he’s hanging on every syllable.

“My tongue will trace it’s way down your happy trail, each hair sensitizing the tip as it wiggles its way to the bottom,” Sam’s eyes are closed as he envisions himself doing it. “Then I’ll kiss across your pubic bone to that deep hip groove and bite my way down it, along your inner thigh, then slip my tongue under your balls to the other side and nip my way back up to the top of your hip. Marking you all the way, biting just hard enough to leave red bruises. I want to make you moan and squirm under me, have your hands tangled in my hair as I please you,” Sam’s completely turned on; his breathing is shallow as he lays out his plan with a sultry tone.

Dean’s watching Sam, watching his tongue slips out and rub over his lips, the light glistening on them as he spins his tale of sexual desire. Dean’s hands are tracing every inch of skin as Sam describes it. He moans with the feeling and image of Sam devouring him, biting him and tasting his salty skin. “Mmm, yeah, Sammy.”

“Then I’ll tenderly lick up the underside of your cock, from the root to the top, circle your slit then lick over it. Taste your precome before closing my mouth over the head and sucking it.” Sam slips two fingers into this mouth and moves them over his tongue. “Slip up and down, letting you fill my mouth and throat with that gorgeous hot prick,” he slips the fingers back into his mouth and sucks on them.

A warm tingle runs up Dean’s spine at the thought of Sam’s warm mouth sucking on his cock. He spits heavily on his palm then slowly strokes the warm wet mess up and down it. “Fuck yeah.” It sounds more like a moan than coherent words.

“Now that I have you good and hard, I’ll pay attention to your balls, suck one in nice and slow, run my tongue over it while I stroke you with my fist, short strokes so you don’t come, just enough to drive you crazy,” Sam’s moaning a little as he pulls his own dick, his fingers finding his nipple and twisting just a little bit. He draws his knees up a little more and Dean can see his hole as his balls just about cover it and the way his hand moves up and down between the V of his thighs. It almost pushes him over the edge. “I’ll slip my tongue down and over your hole, swirl it around a bit just to tease you,” Sam’s arching his back off the bed and Dean knows he’s engrossed in his fantasy.

“Fuck,” Dean’s groaning as he listens to Sam tease him with his words. He’s circling his ass with his index finger. Soft gentle teasing circles over the tender pucker. His knees are pulled up and his toes are digging into the bedspread. “The things you’d do to me,” he moans. He never takes his eyes off of Sam.

“Then spit on it, get it good and wet before I move my finger down and circle it. Rub over it, push into it, and twist at the opening as my thumb presses that tender spot behind your balls,” Sam sucks two fingers into his mouth to get them good and wet, then he moves his hand down to his own hole to start pressing at it and swirling the pad of his index finger around the opening. Dean’s watching those long wet fingers work over it and he does the same. Sucks two of his digits into his mouth and makes them sopping wet before returning to circle his hole.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean’s tense, his words are barely recognizable and Sam being so into his fantasy that he’s acting it completely out on himself has Dean ready to come. His balls are tight and he has that strange hot pooling feeling in his belly that he gets right before he comes. He doesn’t know how long he can hold out. “Sammy,” he moans. “Gotta come,” he’s begging even thought it doesn’t start out like that, it sounds like that.

“Just let me finish,” Sam sits up and pushes himself just over the edge of the bed so that he can see Dean and still finger himself. “I’ll slowly slip one finger in, nice and slow to the knuckle,” he’s watching Dean as he starts to push his finger in and follows suit. “Nice and slow, twisting it a little to pull at the muscle and start to loosen you up.” Dean’s pushing in and twisting his finger as he goes past the knuckle all the way inside with a loud groan. “Fuck yeah,” Sam huffs out. He’s pushing in all the way too, his long finger going all the way to the webbing. “Now I’d start pumping in and out, slow at first, nice and steady,” his eyes are wide as he watches Dean.

“Oh Sammy,” Dean’s pumping in and out. The hand on his cock is holding steady at the base as he fucks his own ass and watches Sam fingering himself while he pumps that long hard cock of his. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he arches back to get a better push.

“Now that you’re nice and loose, I’d put another finger inside, slide it right in next to my index finger without pulling out,” Sam slides his middle finger inside with a soft moan, he cants his hips and lets go of his cock so that he can steady himself on the edge of the bed while he rides his own fingers for Dean’s viewing pleasure. His cock’s bouncing as he rocks back and forth on his hand. Dean licks his lips at the sight. He adds another finger and feels the tight burn as it stretches him open. He’s never had this many fingers inside of himself before and Sam’s never completely penetrated him before, just gently pushed at the opening but from what he’s seeing and being told, he’s been doing it to himself and wants to do it to him too.

“Gonna make you come now, Dean,” he stands up and pulls his fingers out of his ass. “I’d keep my fingers buried in your ass as I start to suck your cock again. Deep throating you as I fuck your ass nice and loose.” Sam moves over to stand next to the bed. He’s stroking his cock with rough long strokes. Dean starts to stroke his cock again, long pulls where he twists at the head. He closes his eyes for a second to imagine Sam’s mouth as the pleasure piece on his cock. “Pushing you to the back of my throat and trying to swallow around it, making my throat flex and squeeze the head,” Sam’s voice gets deep, he’s hissing a little between words as his orgasm builds. “Want to suck the come right out of you,” he says with a breathy exhale. His knees feel like they are going to buckle.

Dean’s moaning and stroking hard over his cock, the precome is leaking out in copious amounts. He’s barely pumping his ass, just holding his fingers steady as he crooks them for the sensation. “I’m gonna come,” he grunts out as the first shot appears, landing on his stomach. Sam’s eyes are closed, his head back and he shoots on Dean’s Chest. “Fuck,” he moans out. “Wanna swallow all of it,” he licks his lips and looks down at the pearls on Dean’s stomach. “Shoot on me,” he says, leaning down to catch the next wave across his mouth. Dean’s breath hitches in his throat as the come paints Sam’s lips and he licks them clean. Sam’s jizz lands across Dean’s hand as he’s squeezing out the final drops onto Sam’s face. Sam falls to his knees and leans up against the other bed.

“Fucking hell,” he pants out. He licks his lips and fingers as he scoops Dean’s come into his mouth.

“Have to admit Sammy, that was fucking hot,” he wipes the come off with the bed sheet.

Sam crawls up into his bed and smiles over at Dean. “Think you’ll sleep now?” his smile is blissful and fucked out. His lids are heavy as he relaxes into the overstuffed pillow. This is where he usually spoons Dean, but not tonight, tonight he just pulls the covers tight to his chin and stays on his back in his own bed.

 

“Better, you wore me out,” he wants to cuddle, to feel Sam’s arms holding him but instead he pulls the extra pillow in tight to his back and leans on it, pretending it’s Sam spooning him.

 

This was enough for now, enough to appease both of them until the next uncontrollable urge comes along.

They haven’t had many big hunts in awhile; they’ve mostly been floating around from town to town on hints from the newspaper. Ghosts here and there, a few small demon possessions but nothing that would make Sam use his powers. Nothing like the old days when John would find huge hunts and Sam would need to use his powers to help hunt something down.

To be honest, Sam’s been glad he hasn’t had to use his powers since he brought Dean back. He wants to retire them, let Dean be the last person or thing he ever reanimates. So while they’re on a small poltergeist hunt in Chicago and Dean calls to says he’s on his way with a corpse that was possessed by a high ranking demon that got away and he needs him to revive it for info, Sam feels sick.

When Dean rushes in, Sam’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “Come on Sammy,” he’s still standing in the open doorway. “Got him in the trunk, come do your thing bro.”

Sam looks up and swallows hard; he doesn’t know how to tell Dean he’s not going to do it. He runs his hand over his forehead pushing his bangs back. “Dean,” he takes a deep breath.

“Come on, times a’wastin,” Dean sounds enthusiastic.

Sam stands up, pushes his shoulders back and looks Dean in the eyes. “I can’t,” he sees the look of disappointment form quickly in Dean’s eyes.

“What, I don’t think I heard you right,” Dean steps into the room and closes the door. “Did you just say you can’t?”

“I just can’t,” Sam looks down at the floor shamefully.

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean’s voice is darker this time.

“Won’t,” he looks into Dean’s eyes again. “I can’t do this anymore. I have to live with what this does every single day, with not being able to touch you or be close enough to you for fear we touch and then you’re gone, forever. I can’t abuse this, I already did that once Dean and although I don’t regret it I just can’t take any chances that we wait too long and someone innocent dies.”

“Let me get this straight,” he walks up to Sam, standing just far enough away that they don’t touch. “You’re not going to help me get info from the stiff stuffed in my trunk because you feel guilty that you brought me back,” he’s building up to seething.

“I don’t feel guilty; I don’t regret it at all. I just don’t want to be this person anymore and if I can’t make it go away, I just won’t use it.”

Dean just stares at him, confusion and pain flooding him as he thinks about everything they’ve given up so that he can be here with Sam, a choice he wasn’t given but forced upon him. Tears build in his eyes and his lip quivers slightly before he blows up at Sam. “You know what,” he points his finger in Sam’s face. “Fuck you Sam Winchester!” he turns and storms out of the door slamming it behind. Sam rushes after him, willing to do it, to appease Dean. When he opens the door, Dean’s speeding out of the parking lot.

Dean’s driving fast with the music turned up, both hands gripping the steering wheel as tears roll down his freckled cheeks. His phone rings, it’s Sam, he hits the ignore button. “Son of a bitch Sam,” he slams the steering wheel with frustration and anger. The cell rings again, its Sam again, so he hits ignore then vibrate before throwing it on the seat next to him.

He’s looking for a place to dump the body, its a few more miles up the road when he spies a dirt road. He pulls off and follows it about a mile off of the main road before he stops. Its dense woods, a perfect spot to leave it so he opens the trunk and stares at the body stuffed inside. He kicks the dirt and points at it. “All he had to do was touch you,” he pulls it out of the trunk and drags it across the ground. “Fucking decides that now is the time to stop using his powers,” he drops it behind a bush. “Like bringing me back was the last thing he’ll ever do,” he covers it with dead branches before using one to hide the tracks and drag marks in the dirt. “Fucking leaves me with my hands full of useless dead man to dispose of because he can’t, no, won’t use his powers anymore,” he wipes his hands and a blood spot on the bottom of the trunk with a dirty rag before closing the trunk door.

He sits in the car for awhile, listens to music, reads pages from his dad’s journal and contemplates not going back tonight. Letting Sam stew for a bit. He looks at his phone and there are nine voice messages. He rolls his eyes, stares at the keypad then decides to listen to them.

A woman’s voice announces each voicemail. _You have nine new voice messages. First message, five forty five pm._ “Dean, we need to talk about this.” _Second voice message, five forty seven pm._ “Dean, fuck this,” _Third voice message, five fifty one pm._ “Fine, don’t talk to me, be mad at me for not wanting to bring things back from the dead, I don’t give a fuck.” _Fourth Voice message, six O three pm._ “Okay, I do care god damn it. Fucking talk to me, I love you. You’re different, I love you, need you……….. Shit.” _Fifth voice message, six fifteen pm._ An inaudible grunting noise. _Sixth voice message, six sixteen pm._ “I’m going out for awhile, need to clear my head.”

Sam goes to a coffee shop down the street from the motel. He takes a seat in the corner away from the other tables and filled booths, he wants the quiet. He orders a coffee and cherry Danish then checks his phone to see if Dean’s called back but he hasn’t.

He eats and watches two small children coloring on their placemats as he thinks about the days when he and Dean would do the same while waiting for John to finish whatever he was doing at another table. He thinks about everything over the years, how they were each others rock, company, saviors, downfall and lovers. How so much of that is lost now. He knows that deep down Dean harbors some dark feelings for being brought back like this. Maybe he sees it as a torture instead of being saved. He wants to make things right, wants to have things be normal again, but how can they, how can they go back to the way they were when nothing can ever be the same. There isn’t an answer.

He lays the money for the bill with extra for a tip on the table before deciding to take a walk around, just to clear his head before going back. He doesn’t want to see Dean until he’s had some more time to think about things.

It’s getting late and he seems to be in a seedier district than he had been. People are milling around, lots of foot traffic on the sidewalks as people brush past him. He crosses the street for a change of scenery and heads back up the way he came. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and his head is down when a man bumps his shoulder and stumbles, Sam reaches out to catch him, their hands meet, a spark ignites in Sam’s fingertips and the man falls to the ground dead. Sam is shocked. He drops to his knees quickly and shakes the man, tries to revive him but he’s dead. He looks at the man’s face, there is no glimmer of recognition but he knows that this has to be the man he touched about ten years ago in that alley. He’s the one that got away.

There’s a crowd of people around them now so Sam calls 911 before he calls Dean.

_Seventh voice message eight O nine pm._ “Dean, I know this is going to sound nuts but I just touched the man from that alley in Chicago about ten years ago. He’s the only one that ever got away. I bumped into a man on the street and our hands touched and he fell down dead. It has to be him.” his voice is shaky. There are street sounds behind his voice. “I’m….” The voicemail cuts off. _Eighth voice message, eight twelve pm._ “Damn time limit. I’m heading back to the hotel, I hope you’re there.” _Ninth voice message, nine ten pm._ “Where the fuck are you, Dean come on man, come back. Don’t be like this, I need you,” he sounds like he’s crying.

“Fucking hell Sammy,” Dean throws his phone on the seat and heads back to the motel.

Dean bursts through the door, Sam’s sitting at the table, two empty beer bottles in front of him as he drinks from a bottle of scotch. He looks over at Dean and winks. “Bought it from the neighbor,” he tips it towards Dean before taking a really long swallow from the bottle, “Thought I needed to be good and drunk tonight.” Dean throws his keys on the table and sits down across from him. “Is it working?” Sam slides the bottle across the table. “Not drunk enough yet,” he pops open another beer from the warm six-pack on the table.

“I got your messages,” Dean pours himself a few fingers of the scotch then slides the bottle across to Sam again.

“Yeah,” Sam downs the beer in a few swigs then reaches for the scotch again. “It’s all pretty clear to me now Dean. I’m a ticking time bomb for you. It’s just a matter of how or when it might happen,” he drinks from the bottle of scotch then slams it on the table.

“Sammy.” Sam raises his hand. “Don’t Sammy me, we aren’t Sammy and Dean anymore,” his head is lulling as he speaks. “It’s all different now that I can take you out with a touch.”

“Jesus, Sam. Shut the fuck up,” he wants to hold him, tell him it’s going to be alright but he can’t because he knows it won’t. “We’ve adapted, it’s all good,” he swallows the last of his drink.

“What,” Sam scoffs. “You call sleeping in separate beds, me riding in the backseat and watching each other whack off, adapting? I call it torture.” Dean doesn’t know how to answer that because Sam has a point, it does feel more like a torture.

“I’m going to bed,” Sam gets up and almost falls over. Dean instinctively reaches for him. “FUCK NO!” Sam screams as he catches himself on the wall and backs away from Dean’s hand. “Are you fucking stupid,” he grumbles before falling into bed completely clothed. “Don’t ever touch me,” he mumbles drunkenly.

 

They don’t talk about this conversation again. Dean keeps his feelings to himself and Sam pretends like it never happened. Sometimes the less said the better.

[Chapter 5](http://j2-ficwhore.livejournal.com/29237.html)


	5. It Only Takes a Touch Ch 5/nc-17/ Wincest_bigbang 2013

Things aren’t really bad between them but there is a constant strain. It’s been seven months since they’ve slept in the same bed, five weeks since the last time they had voyeuristic sex, and two weeks since Dean even looked at him in a romantic or seductive way. Sam knows it hurts, it hurts him too. He wants to touch Dean, wants to show him how much he loves him without this barrier between them. He craves skin to skin contact but he knows if he does, he’ll lose his brother forever.

Dean’s been going out more often lately, not coming home for hours, and smelling of booze and perfume when he does come back. Sam doesn’t want to admit it to himself, doesn’t want to act like it makes him sad or jealous but deep down, he’s hurting from it.

“Going out again?” Sam asks as he watches Dean slap on some aftershave.

“Yeah,” he doesn’t turn around, just watches Sam’s expression from the bathroom mirror.

“A stiff drink sounds good,” he watches Dean’s eyes as he shifts them down to the sink then back up to catch his again in the reflection.

“Yeah, maybe another night Sammy, I’m gonna hustle pool all night cause we need some cash,” he’s not looking at Sam anymore, just looking off to the side of his reflection because he can’t look him in the eye while he lies to him.

Sam crooks his mouth while biting the inside of his lower lip, he looks down at the books spread out on the table and then the blinking curser on the laptop screen. “Just as well, I have lots of research to do anyway. These things aren’t going to catch themselves,” he gives a faint, halfhearted smile in Dean’s direction.

Dean slips his jacket on and flips the collar up. “I’ll try and be home early tonight, maybe we can catch a late night horror flick or something,” he points his finger like a gun at Sam and shoots making a clicking noise with his tongue when he does it.

“Yeah,” he gives a fake smile and nods his head as Dean closes the door. He watches as the Impala disappears out of the parking lot through the slats of the crummy window blinds.

 

Dean is hustling pool just like he said, but with a tall dyed blonde in skintight jeans, a cut off tank top that says; Bitch in Heat, and black leather boots with six inch heels.

She’s lining up her shot; bent forward over the table, boobs resting on the ledge and her ass sticking up in the air. “Let me get this straight, Dean,” she says with a sultry tone. “If I make this one, I get the money, free shots for the night and to drive that sweet 67’ Chevy Impala?” Dean clears his throat, his eyes on her breasts squished against the dark wood edge. “You get to ride in the Impala, not drive it.” Her red lips turn up into a sinister smile; she licks them and takes the shot. The cue ball strikes the eight ball sending it spinning towards the left hand corner pocket. It sails over the green, both of their eyes on it and Dean’s sure she’s sunk it when it barely grazes the corner of the pocket and bounces out of the hole. “FUCK!,” she yells, she throws her pool stick on the green and slams her six inch heel so hard into the cement floor that it sounds like it might break. Dean walks over with a grin and a mischievous glint in his eye. “Pay up,” he says, his hand out, fingers waving backwards gesturing for the prize. She reaches into her pocket, her fingers barely fitting inside of it and pulls out a hundred dollar bill.  
She folds it around her index finger with her thumb and middle finger, the long painted nail pointing at Dean as she slowly moves it towards him. “Ya know, if you weren’t so damned conceited, I’d fuck you into Tuesday,” she slaps the money into his hand.

Stuffing the bill into his pocket, Dean eyes her up as she walks away; he reaches out and takes her arm. “You can still have a ride in the Impala,” he smirks as he puts on the charm. She turns and looks at him. “Drive the Impala and you’ve got a date,” she flips her hair off her shoulder with long red painted nails, a confident grin and half slit eyes. Dean is thinking about it, he starts to shake his head no but then she arches her back pushing out her large round breasts, the cleavage sticking out over the top of her low cut tank, the hint of her black bra showing and he gets hard. He knows what brain he’s thinking with now but he can’t stop himself, it’s been awhile since he’s had sex and even longer since he had sex with anyone but Sam. “Sure,” he pulls out the keys and dangles them in front of her. “But first, I’ll buy you a round.”

They’ve been doing shots at the bar for about an hour, Dean pouring on his charm, his hands touching her arm, thigh and occasionally her face. He needs to be drunk to seduce her; he needs to be able to lose himself inside of her because if he isn’t, he won’t be able to do it. All he’ll think about is Sam and how this is technically cheating.

She’s a little tipsy and she’s flirting heavily. “So, Dean, how much use does the backseat of that thing get?” she throws back another shot. Dean just smiles, gives her a sideways glance and shakes his head as he finishes his whiskey. “She’s seen her share,” he slides his glass across the bar and points at it, signaling the bartender for another. She puts her hand over the glass and shakes her head no. “Uh uh,” she puts her hand on Dean’s jacket lapel and follows it down to his pocket, then slips her hand inside retrieving the keys from it. Dean takes her wrist. “You ask for the keys to Baby, you don’t take them,” he slips the ring off of her finger. “You said I could drive,” she pouts. Dean smirks. “Oh you’ll drive alright.”

They’re making their way to the Impala. She’s hanging on Dean, her body pressed close to his as they grope each other. They haven’t kissed yet and although Dean’s hard and ready to stick it into any wet place she offers, he’s not sure if he wants to kiss her.

“So this is baby?,” she runs her fingers up the hood to the side mirror then caresses the crease of the door, over the rooftop and down to the door handle on the drivers side.

“This,” he gently smoothes over her hood, “Is baby,” he grins with pride. He walks up behind her and pushes her against the car, their bodies flush together, his hips grinding into her ass, his face buried in the pile of hair that she’s since pulled back into a long ponytail.

“Let’s take her for a ride,” she’s reaching behind herself to grab Dean’s crotch. “Mmm, good thing I can drive stick,” she squeezes the bulge.

Dean moans a little and pushes into the touch. “It’s all automatic, smooth handling and amazing thrust.”

“Time to let me handle her,” she snatches the keys from Dean’s hand and giggles. Dean steps back and opens the door for her. “Oh a gentleman,” she’s climbing into the drivers seat.

It’s midnight, the beers are warm and the popcorn’s lost its flavor. Sam’s staring at a black and white horror movie, something that came from the deep or something like that. He throws the popcorn away and dumps the beers down the sink drain. He shucks his clothes and climbs into bed; he can’t help but look over at Dean’s bed and sigh before turning to face the other way.

She has her opened up on the highway, going eighty-five mph and Dean’s nervously clutching the door handle. “Where are you staying?” she screams over the blaring heavy metal music.

“Creek Side Motel just outside of town,” Dean yells back. His hand is now clutching her thigh as well as the door handle.

“Cool, gonna take you back there,” her red mouth smiling as she winks those long fake eyelashes on her right eye at him flirtatiously.

They pull into the parking lot. “Number,” she’s slowing down to cruise through to the room.

“Twelve,” he whispers like everyone can hear them talking.

She pulls into the space in front of room twelve and cuts the engine. “So are you going to ask me in for a coffee, a beer, or to see your etchings?” she’s scooted across the seat, her hands are instantly all over Dean’s thighs working their way up to his cock. Dean shifts nervously. He’s thinking about Sammy being in the room, them out here, what is going on between them and how Sam might react. “My brother is in there,” he blurts it out.

“Awww, then we’ll just do it in the backseat,” her mouth finds Dean’s neck; it dips under the leather collar and tastes his salty flesh. Dean breathes a sigh of relief, his hands roaming all over her chest. “Come on,” he says, quietly opening the door and dragging her out, then opening the back door to lay her down on the seat.

Sam’s eyes open, he thinks he hears the Impala, the sound of the creaking door is a tell tale sign of her. He waits for Dean to open the door and drunkenly stumble through it.

Dean’s jeans are pushed off of his ass, and his cock’s hanging out. He has her jeans shimmied off of her and laying crumpled on the floor next to one of her boots; the other is on the front seat where it landed after he tossed it. She’s giggling, her shirt and bra are pulled up to her neck and those huge fake boobs are being molested by Dean’s mouth and hands.

Her legs are spread wide and Dean’s pushing inside, it’s like a reflex when he exhales at the warm wet feeling of her tight pussy. His mind goes directly to Sam, how his mouth felt when he would suck him off. Her nails are scraping his back as he plunges with brutal force into her; the car is rocking with the intense thrusts.

Sam gets up and walks over to the window; he pushes two slats of the blinds open and looks out into the parking lot. He sees the Impala, it’s rocking back and forth, the light from the porch has the inside of the car dimly lit and he can make out Dean’s bare ass bobbing up and down. He can’t look away, he stares until he sees a woman’s hand come over the back of the seat and grip it tightly, then the loud sounds of moaning and Dean’s ass stops moving. He pulls his hand away from the blind like he was just burnt, his mouth goes suddenly dry and he keeps moving backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he crumples down onto it.

She’s shimming her jeans up as Dean tucks everything back into place. It’s an awkward moment, nothing but silence and for him, it feels very regrettable. She pulls on her boots and leans forward to check her lipstick in the review mirror; she pulls her ponytail tight again and adjusts her boobs.

“Back to the bar or home?” he’s climbing out of the car.

“You know what sugar, I’ll just call a cab,” she climbs out and pulls out her cell phone.

“No, I’ll take you back to the bar or to your home. It’s the least I can do,” he insists but she’s already made the order while he was talking.

“Its okay, all taken care of,” she gives him a simpering grin. His expression tells it all, he’s ready for this encounter to be over. He smiles back and looks at the ground as he scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“Do you remember my name Dean,” she pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her jacket, puts one between those red stained lips and lights it up. Dean stammers, he’s searching for her name but can’t come up with anything. “Uh?” is the only noise that comes out of his mouth. She laughs. “It’s Sam,” she blows a lungful of smoke into the air.

Dean’s dumbfounded.

The cab pulls up alongside of them; she snuffs her cigarette and climbs into the back. “It was fun sweetie.”

The lights are out when Dean opens the door. He’s drunk and smells like sex. He’s glad Sam’s asleep because he’s in no mood to explain the smell of pussy on his hands and clothes.

“Make any money?” Sam says groggily, pretending to be asleep. It’s not hard to fake it since he’s also hiding the tears behind the gravelly voice.

“About four hundred,” Dean says pulling off his boots.

“Gave up on the movie after one,” he doesn’t look at Dean.

“Sorry,” he feels guilty enough as it is but now Sam’s rubbing it in deeper. “Gonna get cleaned up,” he quickly disappears into the bathroom.

Sam decides to let it go for tonight.

In the morning they’re heading out, Sam looks at the backseat. “Are you getting in?” Dean asks. Sam looks at him standing there holding the front door open. He can’t bring himself to answer but everything in him screams, NO!. “Look, we can’t go for breakfast if you don’t get in the car,” Dean sounds irritated. He walks over and opens the door for Sam. “Happy now,” he holds it open like a valet. Sam just looks at the seat then back up at Dean. “Okay, what the fuck is your problem Sam?” Sam’s hands are balled into fists and he can feel his heart breaking as his mind replays the scene from last night.

“Was she good?” he finally says.

“What, was who good,” Dean makes a confused expression.

“Her, the woman you fucked in the backseat last night,” he’s pointing into the car like there’s evidence.

Dean’s face drops, he goes pale and he can’t look at Sam. He takes a deep breath and lets it out shakily. “You saw,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Yeah,” Sam’s eyes drop and he kicks the loose gravel with his foot. They aren’t fighting; it’s more of an embarrassing moment, more of a remorseful confrontation than hate or anger. Sam’s sad and he can see that Dean’s sorry; in that way of not admitting he is while he’s still kicking himself for doing it in the first place.

“I didn’t know,” Dean still won’t look up. “Look Sam, if you don’t want to ride back here…” Sam interrupts him.

“I don’t, but I’ll ride up front instead,” He gives Dean a halfhearted smile as he holds back the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks.

Sam barely talks through breakfast or on the seven hour road trip. He keeps his nose buried in a book the entire time. Dean keeps looking in the rearview mirror, not to check the road but wishing that he could take it all back and never have hurt Sam.

They follow up on some leads and get a bite to eat before settling in at a motel outside of town.

Sam’s filtering through the net researching things about the town while Dean flips mindlessly through the TV channels. Sam closes his laptop and stretches. “I’m tired,” he yawns and heads to the bathroom.

“I’m right there with ya bro,” Dean turns off the TV and sits up. Sam leaves the bathroom door open while he brushes his teeth and puts on a pair of pajama bottoms. He forgets to shut it when he decides to pee. Dean’s watching him, gets semi hard seeing the long lean muscle of Sam’s back through his t-shirt and his hand holding his cock. He stands up walks into the bathroom and stands behind Sam. “I’m behind you,” he whispers breathlessly into Sam’s ear. He has his hand on his ever growing cock.

“I heard you come in,” Sam replies. He knows what Dean’s building up to but as much as he wants it, he can’t give it to him. He doesn’t want to reject him but he knows he has to.

“Love the way you look holding your cock like that,” Dean’s voice is deeper, sultrier than before. Sam stands taller, swallows thickly and closes his eyes. He wants to give in, wants to let Dean talk him through another jerk off session, but he can’t, won’t let it happen. “You smell good,” Dean’s continuing, not sensing the tension in Sam’s shoulders. Sam clears his throat, puts his cock away and carefully steps way from the toilet making sure not to brush Dean, who is mere inches from him. Dean’s shocked, left standing there with his hand inside of his fly stroking himself through his boxers. “Where are you going?” he’s taken back. Sam washes his hands and turns before leaving. “Not tonight Dean, I’m tired,” he plays it as cool as he can without being mean. “Yeah, fine,” Dean doesn’t protest, he just watches Sam leave the room and then quietly shuts the door.

When Dean comes out, he can’t sleep, just stares at the dark ceiling listening to Sam’s breathing. He rolls over and watches Sam. His face isn’t relaxed and his hands are clutching the blanket edges. He knows he’s awake. “Can we talk,” he says softly. Sam exhales quietly then turns his head to look at Dean. “Sure, what do you want to talk about?”

“Maybe it’s more like a listening thing for you and a talking thing for me,” Dean feels the urge to sit up.

“Okay, what do you want me to listen to?” he rolls over to face Dean.

“Look, I’m really sorry and I know that doesn’t cover it completely,” he takes a deep breath. Sam closes his eyes and clutches the pillow bracing for what comes next. “I’ve done a lot of shitty things over the last month. I’ve been.” he wipes his forehead like he’s sweating then rubs the back of his neck, “Seeking sexual comfort elsewhere.” Sam moans quietly, just loud enough for Dean to hear, “And with women. I know it’s still cheating and I know I tried to rationalize it in my head as a blow job or hand job for release but yeah, I knew exactly what it was,” he rubs his brow like he has a headache and looks shamefully at the floor. Sam clears his throat and sits up to face Dean. “Look, don’t say anything, I’m not done yet,” he can’t look Sam in the eye yet. “I just wanted someone to touch me, to actually get me off with their body. Not that I don’t love what we do, that I don’t love you, want you, need you but we can’t touch and I just needed that so badly,” he finally looks Sam in the eyes. “I need you to touch me and we can’t ever do that, ever again,” his eyes are sad and he feels like a five year old apologizing for breaking the cookie jar after eating the last cookie.

“Can I say something now?” Sam asks.

“Yes, of course, sorry,” Dean holds his breath waiting for Sam’s retort.

“I can’t lie,” he rubs his hands on his knees. “It hurts. I mean, I knew you were doing something with those women or prostitutes or whatever when you’d come home smelling like cheap perfume and booze, I’m not stupid,” he shifts on the bed. “It was just easier to not think about it when I hadn’t actually seen it. Know what I mean?” Dean nods his head in agreement. “I know you need more than just words or watching me. I know you’re a sexual person that requires more touch and sensory stimulation, I get that. I can’t ever give you that anymore so I knew on some level that you were going to go out and get it, I had just hoped that you’d be more open with me about it. Not sneaking around and pretending to only want me. That’s what hurt me. If you had brought her in, told me you needed to fuck her, I would have agreed and happily watched you, gotten off to it and then you could have watched me fuck her but instead the lies and sneaking did nothing but hurt us,” he takes a shaky breath. Dean’s sitting elbows on his knees; hands clasped, knowing everything Sam’s saying is true. “I just want to get back to some kind of normal again. Now that is all I have to say.”

“That’s what I want too,” Dean smiles at Sam, “Starting fresh right now.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now I need some sleep,” Sam gives a small quiet laugh; it’s the first happy sound he’s made in awhile.

 

Things go back to a normal again for a while. They’re brothers again, not lovers. Dean’s taking a break from going out to find sex and has been taking care of business himself, alone in the bathroom after Sam falls asleep. Sam’s pretty much doing the same thing but much less than Dean does.

It’s been a year since Sam brought Dean back. Things have been on the rough side for both of them lately. Sam’s exhausted, being safe and not touching Dean when they do everything together is nerve wracking. Things have been a bit on the edgy side lately and tempers tend to flair periodically. Sam’s far more bitchy than usual and he catches himself rolling his eyes and making bitch faces on a regular basis.

Dean’s been going out on his own a lot more, taking a few more risks than he usually does and Sam’s noticed.

They’re having a stand off with a spirit possessed man, who is brandishing a pretty big knife. He’s already killed three people and all signs point to the spirit as being a serial killer. Sam’s trying to maneuver into a position to distract him so that Dean can get the small pouch around the man’s neck containing a finger bone of the killer. Sam’s just about in position when Dean suddenly jumps forward screaming, “Fucking screw you!” he charges at the man, unarmed.

“Dean, NO!” Sam tries to stop him but Dean tackles the man, gets slashed along the ribs with the knife in the process but grabs the bag, throws it to Sam who sets it on fire thus burning the spirit out of the man.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Sam says, he’s pissed. “That was too dangerous.”

“I saw the opportunity and I took it, it all worked out,” he’s bandaging his wound while standing at the trunk.

“You’ve been acting like you have a death wish,” Sam’s worried about him.

“Been there, done that. Besides, it gets the job done, what are you whining about,” Dean won’t admit it, but he has been taking more risks, putting himself in more danger than necessary. Maybe he does have a death wish; maybe he’s sick of this life and all of its restrictions. He looks at Sam. “I miss the days when you’d be patching me up,” he bites a piece of white tape off and puts it across the white cotton gauze. “I’ll sew this up when we get back to the motel,” he pulls his shirt down and slams the trunk shut. “Let’s roll.” Sam shakes his head and exhales hard.

Dean can’t sleep, his side hurts and it’s bleeding again. It’s been four days and he can’t get it to heal up, but then again, it needs stitches where he can’t reach and he has no one to sew him up.

He sits up; the sheets are bloody since his t-shirt is soaked through. He watches Sam sleeping, thinks about how he is tired of everything. How he misses Sam. Yeah he’s right there, is always there but he’s not here, in bed, touching him, sitting beside him in the Impala or soothing his wounds. He’s just fucking there.

He’s looking at the dim light in the bathroom and thinks about cleaning up but then doesn’t because he’s just so fucking tired of trying. He’s just tired of living if what he’s doing can be called living. He feels empty most of the time, guilty about everything and alcohol doesn’t even take the pain away anymore.

Sam’s hand falls out of the bed in an outstretched reach in Dean’s direction. Dean looks at it, the bare flesh of Sam’s fingers caught in the dim blue light of the room. He watches Sam’s expression, peaceful and relaxed as he’s oblivious to it, to Dean’s longing pain.

_I could just touch it,_ he thinks. _Just end it all right now and Sam couldn’t stop me and couldn’t feel guilty about it._ He stares at his fingers like they are objects to be greatly desired. _It’s an accident, I got up, didn’t notice and bam! Dead,_ he’s rationalizing suicide.

He stares for a long time, twitches his own fingers as he tries to get up the courage to just do it and get it over with. He takes a deep breath and slowly leans forward, his fingers inching towards Sam’s. He hovers over them, he can feel the heat from Sam’s skin and he remembers how warm he is. How it feels to be shoved against him and something inside of him breaks. He relaxes and lets his fingers fall loosely onto Sam’s warm skin. _One more touch._ he thinks as his fingers feel blazing skin and he exhales against the feeling.

Sam wiggles his fingers against a feeling, a brush of something against him. He wakes up and opens his eyes. Dean’s standing dumbfounded as he clasps Sam’s hand. Sam sits up like a bolt of lightening just struck him. He jerks his hand away as if he’s been burned and he just stares at Dean who is staring back with the most confused look on his face.

“Shouldn’t I be dead?” Dean’s shocked. Sam can’t answer him, he just looks at his hands, then at Dean’s and then back at his again. He hasn’t used his powers in months, Dean was the last reanimation he was ever going to do and that man in Chicago was his last death. Maybe he’s lost them; maybe, he can’t bring things back from the dead anymore. The realization of what Dean asked hits him like a ton of bricks. “You want to be dead?” he can’t wrap his head around it. Dean doesn’t answer, just looks shamefully at the floor. “But I’m not,” he replies.

Sam doesn’t understand what’s happening, he touched Dean or Dean touched him and nothing happened. There is excitement in his chest as he quickly scrambles out of bed, rushes over to the window and looks for something dead. He’ll take flies, or anything, he’s not being picky as he searches the windowsill crevasses. Dean’s staring at him like he’s crazy. “Of all the fucking times for one of the crappy motel’s we stay at to have a four star cleaning team,” he looks around then runs into the small bathroom, he stands on the toilet lid to reach the window. He’s blowing into the grooves of the frame and finds a tiny dead bug.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean’s followed him into the bathroom and is staring at him with much confusion and dismay.

“Seeing if I can still bring things back from the dead,” he touches the bug and a spark ignites, it starts moving. “Son of a bitch,” he shouts with disappointment and then quickly touches it again and it dies. He looks over at Dean. “Are you sure we touched?” Dean just nods his head yes. Sam slumps down on to the toilet in disbelief. Dean feels sad too as he watches Sam, he reaches out to touch him but Sam jumps back. “No, NO, NO!” he shouts as he quickly backs away. “What if it only works when I’m awake and not when I’m asleep or unconscious,” he’s shaking from head to toe. “I was willing to touch you before,” Dean looks at Sam with all honesty. “That hasn’t changed.”

“You, you touched me on purpose. I can’t understand why you’d do that,” Sam’s eyes fill with tears.

Dean bows his head, takes a deep breath and then looks back up. “I hated living with you and without you at the same time. It’s terrible to be lonely while in the same room with the man you love,” he’s fighting back his own tears now. “Then you were trying to kill yourself,” Sam’s voice is quaking. Dean only nods yes.

“I.. I.. can’t,” Sam says as he rushes past Dean to the bedroom again. Dean follows after him. “But it didn’t work, there has to be a reason,” he reaches out and grabs Sam’s arm to pull him back. Sam jerks away, but there’s no spark, no ignition, nothing but warm skin on skin. Sam’s eyes are filled with tears, but now he’s not sure if they are joy or fear. “Sammy, it’s alright,” Dean pulls him in close as Sam crumples to the floor; he descends with him, holding him tightly in a reassuring hug.

“I’ve got you.” Sam’s pressed tight to Dean’s body. The warmth feels searing against his neglected body. Dean strokes his hair and rocks him. “I love you,” he whispers into his hair as he kisses the top of his head. Sam’s holding tight, like Dean is tethering him here like a helium balloon and if he lets him go, he’ll float away. “Don’t let go,” Sam begs into Dean’s chest. “Never I’ll never let you go Sammy,” he promises as he pulls him in tighter.

They sit like this for a long time, neither letting go, neither speaking as Dean strokes Sam’s hair and kisses him tenderly across the forehead. It’s like they’ve been apart for far too long and need to get reacquainted with each other again. They’ve missed each other so much that it hurt constantly, they need to heal and this is healing them.

Sam slips his hand under Dean’s t-shirt and caresses the hard muscle beneath. His fingers follow the smooth skin and rippled muscles along Dean’s shoulder blades. He makes tiny circles up his spine to the nape of his neck where he caresses ever so slightly.

“Mmmm,” Dean smiles at the touches. He slides his hand over Sam’s shoulders then down his arm to his elbow where he smoothes over the rough skin with tiny circles. He remembers how Sam loves this. Sam mewls at the touch. He grips his fingers slightly into Dean’s chest at the gentle touch. “God, I’ve missed this,” he looks up into Dean’s face and smiles.

Sam relaxes as his hand slides down Dean’s back until he feels the deep sway of his spine, then with light touches he writes, forever across it, it’s just a word but it means so much. “What did you write?” Dean asks. Sam kisses the hollow of Dean’s throat. “Forever,” he breathes the word onto Dean’s skin making him smile at the sentiment. “Think I need to get it tattooed on there.” Sam shakes his head no. “Cause I just put it there so you’ll always remember that we are forever.”

They lie down on the floor and face each other, no pillows and no blankets as they start to slowly remove each others clothes. Sam slips Dean’s shirt off then kisses across his chest as he slips his hands down over rippled muscle to Dean’s waistband. He pulls it down over Dean’s hips then his thighs and off his legs. He’s naked and pressed against Sam. He rolls Sam on his back and straddles him, puts Sam’s arms above his head and slowly tugs his t-shirt out of his waistband, slips it over his belly and drags his fingers over the long sinuous muscles as he pushes it up under Sam’s armpits. He leans forward and kisses across the collarbone. Sam makes a sudden inhale with the intense feeling of Dean’s lips caressing his skin. Dean slips Sam’s shirt off of his long outstretched arms.

He takes his time with moving his hands back down those long lean arms. Starting at the fingertips, over his huge palms, over the forearm and over the bicep where he lingers a little before slipping under Sam’s armpits then down his flanks. He ends up at his hip bones, where he runs his thumbs along the deep grooves as he maneuvers Sam’s bottoms off of them. Sam cants his hips into Dean as he slides them a little bit farther down his legs until he can remove them. Dean leans in and nuzzles the curly soft hairline. “Missed you so much,” his words are muffled against Sam’s skin.

Sam’s holding Dean’s head; he runs his fingers through the soft bristles of hair. “Fuck,” he moans at the warmth, the tantalizing buzz of Dean’s words against him and he can’t ever imagine not having it.

The thin plaid fabric of Sam’s pajama pants slides over his knees and Dean lifts himself up to shimmy them over Sam’s thick calves. He has them down at Sam’s ankles now and he stops, letting Sam wrestle underneath his weight to kick them off. Dean laughs as he watches Sam’s concentration as he struggles to kick them off. “I love your serious face,” he runs his thumb over Sam’s knit brow. Sam pushes into the touch; his eyes closing at the gentleness of Dean’s fingers smoothing over his brow, making it relax completely.

They’re both hard but neither wants to have sex, they just want to touch every inch of every part of each other’s body. Dean lies over Sam, covers him like a blanket, presses his face into the crook of his neck and nuzzles just under his jaw. “I’ve missed your scent,” he takes a deep breath and drinks Sam in completely. Sam holds him tighter, wraps both arms around his shoulders and kisses his forehead. He licks the salty taste off of his lips, savoring it.

Their breathing is synced; they intertwine their legs and rub their feet together. It’s lazy and soft, sexy and amazing. They lose themselves inside of each other. They don’t talk much just letting their touches speak for them. Dean’s running his hand over Sam’s chin, tracing the lines of it. He’s not even hard anymore as his cock lies against Sam’s hip. He’s fine with that; he’s content to just be in Sam’s arms.

The soft feeling of Sam’s hand drawing things on Dean’s back lulls them to sleep.

It’s like a dream when Sam opens his eyes in the morning; Dean’s snoring softly as he’s wrapped tight in Sam’s arms. He’s not sure why this happened or how it even happened but it’s given them their life back and for that, he’s grateful. “Morning Sunshine,” Sam says softly into Dean’s forehead. Dean’s eyes flutter open and for the first time in a long time, he smiles at Sam, a genuine pleasant smile. “Morning,” They kiss; it’s not hard and passionate but soft and sweet. “Sorry for the morning breath,” Sam covers his mouth. “I can actually say this and mean it, your morning breath is amazing,” Dean laughs.

“I don’t wanna get up,” Sam says holding Dean tighter.

“Neither do I, but if we don’t, I’m going to pee all over you,” he laughs that genuine deep chuckle of his. Dean struggles up and goes into the bathroom. Sam just lays there, hands tucked behind his head. When Dean comes out, he sits on the edge of the bed and stretches his back. “I could really use some food,” he reaches into his duffel and pulls out two Slim Jims. “This should sustain us,” he hands one to Sam. “Now climb up here and get into bed, I’m ready for some more snuggling.” Sam gets into bed and wraps himself around Dean. “I’m never letting you go, ever again,” he kisses Dean on that perfect mouth. “I’m counting on that,” Dean says into the kiss. “I sure have missed you,” he kisses Dean again but this time Dean returns the kiss with a more passionate press. “Let’s do something about that,” he says seductively. “Absolutely Sam says pulling the covers over their heads.

 

The End.  



End file.
